


Maybe we're from the same star

by SKEvans



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: A sprinkle of angst for flavor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Childhood Friends, Developing Friendships, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up Together, Long-Distance Relationship, Romance, Sexual Content, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, and they were ROOMMATES, ok i lied it's a heap not a sprinkle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKEvans/pseuds/SKEvans
Summary: Tifa knows what soulmates are: people fated to be together for life. Or so she believes until she turns nine and meets Cloud Strife. A mark appears where they touched, irrefutable proof of their intertwined fates. But as they grow up, they learn sharing a destiny isn't as simple as it sounds.Written for Tifa Week 2020
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 285
Kudos: 425





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! As this story is for Tifa Week, it will be split into two parts: part one for the the birthday prompt, part two for the free day. The M rating is for the second part; might be bumped up, in which case I will say so in the A/N at the start of part two.
> 
> (Hello there. This is SK from the future here to say you should absolutely, definitely ignore me saying "it's the last part" at every turn. Spoiler: it's not the last part.)
> 
> Title is a line from an Emery Allen poem: "I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything / Maybe we're from the same star."

—

—

**Maybe we're from the same star**

—

_part one_

—

Tifa meets her soulmate on her ninth birthday.

There is a lot of noise in the morning—cars and trucks and shouts and laughter. She goes to the window to check. She stands on her tiptoes and sees that people are moving into the house next to theirs. Her Dad joins her, bringing a chair over so she can better observe the bustle. As a blonde woman and kid get out of a car, her father lets out a surprised noise. Tifa turns her wide eyes to him.

"Do you know them, Dad?"

"Yeah," he says, still staring out of the window. He leaves it at that.

Tifa keeps on watching until the blonde kid goes inside the house with the woman. "Should we go say hello?"

Her father glances down at her as she gets off the chair. "Later. Let them settle in first."

While she is disappointed, she nods and goes back to her breakfast. The unknown people are all she can focus on—something about having a neighbor her age, someone she can play with, raises her spirits and anticipation builds within her. When her father says they can go say hello— _finally_ —Tifa is bursting with energy; she almost runs down the sidewalk to the next-door house. To her delight, the kid is out front, playing with a soccer ball. He looks up at their approach, and Tifa's good mood plummets at the mean look he sends her. She slows down and waits for her Dad to catch up, now uncertain about meeting them. In answer, her father takes her hand, knowing she needs reassurance; he stops at the end of the driveway.

"You must be Cloud?" he calls out to the kid. "Last time I saw you, you were a lot smaller."

The kid frowns. "Who are you?"

Her father laughs, and Tifa isn't sure why. This kid is impolite and nothing is funny about bad manners; that's what her mother used to say.

"Could you tell your mother Brian Lockhart is here, Cloud?"

It takes a moment for the kid to twist on his feet and head inside. When he comes back, the blonde woman Tifa saw earlier accompanies him. Cloud's mother smiles, wide and friendly, and Tifa thinks of how much nicer she is than her son.

"Brian! It's been a few years."

Her father leads them up the driveway to talk with Cloud's mother; he tugs at Tifa's hand when she doesn't move, and she has no chance but to come along. Still, she stays at her Dad's side. She keeps an eye on Cloud as he ignores them, too busy playing with the soccer ball.

"Tifa," her father says, bringing her attention back to the adults, "this is Claudia Strife. She just moved back here with her son, Cloud."

Tifa retreats behind her father's legs a little, suddenly shy. "Hi," she whispers.

"Hi, sweetie," Claudia says with another warm smile. "Cloud, come over here, would you?"

Cloud puts a foot on the soccer ball to stop it from rolling away but stays where he is.

"Don't be rude." His mother's tone takes on a harsh edge. "Come say hello."

With obvious frustration, Cloud walks up to them, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. "Hi," he mumbles, kicking at the ground.

The adults fill the silence with their talk, but Tifa isn't listening; she stares at Cloud until he meets her gaze. To her surprise, he looks down at that. It reminds Tifa of how a friend from school always flees people's eyes, too shy to stand it. It's Tifa's turn to frown.

"Are you shy?" she asks out of the blue, surprising everyone. "Is that why you're rude?"

Cloud's eyes widen and his cheeks redden; he turns his head so he isn't facing her anymore. Claudia pats him on the head, to his annoyance.

"He _is_ a little shy," his mother laughs as he pushes her hand away. "The move isn't helping. Why don't you two go play for a bit, get to know each other? What do you say, Cloud?"

Tifa holds her breath as she waits for his answer; he still isn't looking her way.

"Whatever." The word is a grumble, as if he feels the obligation to agree. He waves at Tifa to follow him. "Come on."

Her hesitation must show because her father gently pushes her forward. "Go on, Tifa."

After another moment of doubt, she walks over to Cloud, who resumed playing with the soccer ball.

"How old are you?" she asks when he doesn't speak.

Cloud gives her a quick glance. "Ten."

Silence falls again. Tifa wants to play soccer, too, but Cloud's attitude makes her too nervous to ask. So she sits on the grass and watches him bounce the ball around on his feet, sulking about how her birthday sucks so far. It's an eternity before he turns to her. His face is red again.

"Do you—uh, do you want to play?"

Tifa jumps to her feet, brushing off her clothes. "Yes!"

"You want to goal or shoot?" he asks once she's joined him.

"Shoot," is her immediate answer. "But we can switch after."

Cloud looks glad at her suggestion; they set up an imaginary goal in front of the fence separating their houses and take turns shooting the ball. Though they aren't keeping track of the goals, Tifa can tell she's the one in the lead, and the hidden, competitive part of her loves it. It surprises her to see Cloud doesn't mind losing, not like some of the boys at school. The more they play, the more relaxed he becomes, and he even smiles when she scores. It makes her smile back.

Her Dad calls for her as she is the goalkeeper, distracting her for a second, but it's enough not to notice Cloud's kick until it's too late. The ball collides with her head, and she lets out a noise of both pain and surprise. She hears shouts and gasps and people coming near, but her eyes stay closed as she folds unto herself, a reflexive action. But it's the sharp flare of pain on her forearm that causes her to cry out more than the hit to her head. She pushes against what is causing her to hurt until it lets go. The pain doesn't ease, not yet, and when Tifa opens her eyes, she sees her dumbfounded father and Cloud's shocked mother. And then Cloud, who stares at his left hand with astonishment and fear. Tifa glances at her arm—there is nothing where she feels the acute sting.

Claudia moves abruptly, kneeling next to Cloud and grasping his hand in hers, looking it over. "What did you feel?"

Her worried tone snaps Tifa's father out of his stunned state. He hauls her to her feet and tucks her against his body. "Are you okay, Tifa?"

She nods despite her confusion. Yes, her arm hurts, but it's starting to fade away. "Dad, what happened?"

"It burned," Cloud says, alarm seeping into his voice. "When she grabbed my wrist, it burned. Mom, what does—"

His mother says something Tifa can't hear, and this time when Cloud looks at her, there is wonder in his eyes—but the fear also hasn't dissipated.

"We'll head back," her father says, drawing all eyes to him. "We'll talk more tomorrow, Claudia." His statement leaves no place for questions. He grabs Tifa's hand and pulls her along with him towards their house.

Tifa turns her head, a part of her—deep, deep down—feeling like she shouldn't walk away. Cloud is still on the ground talking with his mother, but his gaze doesn't stray from hers. It's only once her father and her have entered their house that Tifa senses a tightness in her chest, like something is missing and she can't breathe properly without it. That's what she tells her Dad, and he sighs before signaling at her to sit on the couch next to him. Once she does, he grasps her arm, his movements delicate as if he's afraid to hurt her. Tifa doesn't say the pain went away because that's not true—it just migrated to her heart.

When her Dad asks if she knows what soulmates are, Tifa says yes—everyone knows what soulmates are. They are people fated to be together for life. Her answer brings a sense of sadness to her father's expression, but he hides it as he tells her that is what her and Cloud are. Tifa can only blink at him with a strange fascination, as if expecting him to say it's a joke.

"I have a soulmate?" she whispers once it's clear he is serious.

"Yes." Her Dad turns her arm up so she can see the spot Cloud touched. "When your soulmate touches you the first time, it hurts. That's what happened when Cloud grabbed your arm, isn't it?"

She nods, and fear swirls through her, at last showing up. Nothing about this had seemed too scary before learning Cloud is her soulmate. "And I grabbed his wrist. Dad, what does it mean? Does it mean I have to _marry_ him?" She makes a face. "I don't want to."

Her father laughs at this. Tifa once again thinks there is something sad about him as he speaks, "Of course not, Tifa. You'll never have to marry anyone if you don't want to."

She lets out a sigh, relief loosening the tension in her shoulders. "Then, what does it mean?"

"It means… It means nothing for now," he says, releasing her arm. His voice is the same as when he scolds her, so she knows this is serious.

"Okay. But I can talk to him, right?"

For some reason, the notion of not seeing or talking to Cloud again worsens the ache in her chest. Tifa doesn't understand what it means, and she hopes it'll go away in time.

"Yes, of course, Tifa." Her Dad hugs her, brief and tight, and then gets up. "Let's finish your birthday preparations."

All this soulmates business almost made her forget today is her birthday. The excitement for her party in the afternoon returns, and she shoves the thought of Cloud away. She follows her Dad in the kitchen; together, they decorate the house and bake a cake. By the time her friends arrive, Tifa has forgotten what happened this morning, too distracted by the joy she feels to care about her throbbing heart.

Once everyone has left, Tifa goes in the backyard, still basking in the good spirits this afternoon brought her. Her father stays inside, watching TV and occasionally checking on her. Tifa sits on the deck and gazes at the stars. In the darkness, with the sound of the TV drifting through the open door, she remembers the stinging sensation that set fire to her arm. There is no trace left behind where Cloud touched her—nothing to prove they are soulmates. Tifa grimaces. What does having a soulmate do, anyway?

Noise on the other side of the fence draws her attention; two of the panels are missing, and she sees Cloud walk by. She is up on her feet and near the fence before she knows it. She looks into their backyard, surprised to see how empty it is until she recalls they moved in today. Cloud is lying on his back, his hands crossed behind his head; Tifa imagines he is observing the stars just like she was a minute ago. The thought makes her happy.

"Cloud," she calls out, voice low. "Hey!"

He sits up fast as if surprised but finds her immediately and stands up. Tifa considers it a victory when he comes to stand on the other side of the fence despite his silence.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

Cloud chews his bottom lip, then says, "Yeah. Are you?"

She nods. "Did your mom explain what happened?"

His eyes drop to the ground. "Yeah."

Tifa's heart falls at his disheartened posture, and she can't help her next words. "Are you sad about being my soulmate?"

"What?" Cloud's head snaps up at her question. "No! That's not—I don't even know you." He lets out a long sigh. "I just had a bad day."

"Oh," Tifa says with a slight frown, unsure what to make of his other comment, "that's not fun. I would have invited you if I had known."

"Invited me?"

Tifa smiles. "Today is my birthday. I turned nine."

Cloud blinks several times like he doesn't know what to say to that. When he opens his mouth to speak, she expects he'll say 'happy birthday', but he says, "Sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to hit you."

"Don't worry, I know that!"

"Okay, well…" He rubs the back of his head. "Just to be sure."

Tifa laughs at his reaction, finding it a little sweet. It's not often that the boys at school apologize for anything. Cloud blushes and turns his head away to hide it.

Her curiosity gets the better of her. "What were you doing earlier?" At his puzzled expression, she adds, "Were you watching the stars?"

"Uh, yeah." He clears his throat. "You can't see them like that in Midgar."

"Wow, you're from Midgar? That's so far!"

Cloud faces her again. "I was born here, but I don't remember much."

"I've never left Nibelheim," Tifa says, pouting.

"It's small." Cloud shakes his head. "But we have a bigger house here."

"Are you going to stay here?" The question leaves her unbidden. There's something scary about the idea of him not staying, even if Tifa can't understand why.

"Yeah," he says, "I don't think we're gonna go back to Midgar."

"Okay. That's good. I was looking at the stars, too." A glimmer of interest lights up Cloud's face, encouraging her. "Wanna watch them together?"

Cloud throws a glance over his shoulder. His new house is dark except for a faint light on the second floor. "Sure," he says. He doesn't ask her to come over on his side of the fence and instead crosses into her backyard through the hole formed by the missing panels. He grunts as his sleeve catches on splinters of wood but dislodges it without ripping it. Once he's through, he rubs his wrist where the splinters scratched it. Tifa notices it's his left hand—the one she grabbed this morning.

"Does it hurt?" she asks as they lay down on the grass.

"It's just a scratch."

"No, I mean, you know…" Tifa keeps her eyes on the stars. "When I touched you earlier."

Cloud keeps quiet for a minute, then says, "Does it still hurt for you?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"That's good, right?"

"I don't know." She hears his frustrated sigh. "Mom just said not to worry about it."

"My Dad said I don't have to marry you." At his snort, she adds, "He also said it doesn't mean anything for now."

They observe the sky for a while, the noise from the TV still playing in the background.

"I think Dad fell asleep," Tifa says, wondering why he hasn't come out to check on her in a while.

"My mom's sleeping, too. She was really tired."

Tifa turns right to look at Cloud, although he keeps his gaze up. "Can I see your wrist?" Her voice is soft; she's not sure why it scares her that he would refuse.

It takes Cloud a moment to raise his arm so she can see the underside of his wrist. Like with her arm, there is no mark, no scar to spell out their would-be connection.

"I wonder why it hurt," she says even if she knows he won't have the answer.

"So we'd know, I guess. Can I see yours?"

She sits up; Cloud follows suit. "Nothing. Just like you," she says as she pulls back her sleeve to show him.

He places his wrist next to her forearm as if to compare, careful not to touch her. Tifa contemplates him as he gets that mean look again. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Cloud goes to pull his arm back, but Tifa reaches out and grasps his wrist. It's both interest at what will happen and at what is bothering him. This time, there is no pain—there is nothing, in fact. This is no different than when she grabs her friends' hands or hugs her father. Cloud's surprised expression tells her it's the same for him.

"Why don't you tell me what's annoying you?" Tifa doesn't let go of his wrist. "Are you mad that you have a soulmate?"

Slowly, he extends his other hand to touch her forearm. His fingers brush her skin as if he's afraid of what could happen. But still nothing. He pulls back, and Tifa releases her hold on him.

"I'm not mad," he says. He sounds a little far away, almost lost to his thoughts. "I'm not even sure what a soulmate is, anyway."

"Hm, well, I've heard it's someone you're supposed to spend your life with. But that sounds like marriage." She wrinkles her nose at the idea.

When Cloud laughs, it shocks Tifa; he doesn't seem like a boy who laughs a lot, and she realizes it's because he found her funny. She smiles and giggles.

"I don't think it's marriage," Cloud says, a hint of mirth still in his voice. "It has to be different."

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know."

Tifa leans forward a little, inciting Cloud to do the same. What she is about to say feels like a secret. Maybe it's because of the way the adults dismissed what Cloud and her are supposed to be—or maybe it's because she's afraid speaking too loudly will carry her words on the breeze and they'll be lost forever. This is between Cloud and her, and no one else.

"We could find out together."

"Being soulmates?"

"Yeah! If no one will tell us, we'll have to figure it out."

Cloud frowns, but then his features clear. "You're right."

Without knowing why, Tifa heart beats faster and faster in her chest—but it's not the same pain she experienced this morning, not that tightness that made it difficult to breathe. This is a good pain, she thinks, almost like when you're too excited that you feel sick—you know it'll be worth it in the end.

"We should promise," she whispers.

"Promise what exactly?"

She says nothing as she grabs his wrist again. The flow of his pulse drums on her thumb, a hurried rhythm she recognizes as her own. There's something both comforting and terrifying about that. And yet, Tifa tightens her grip.

"To find out together."

"Alright," Cloud says. Though he says it softly, there's no uncertainty in his voice. "I promise."

"I promise, too," Tifa echoes.

She's reluctant to slant back and let go of his wrist, but after a moment, she does. Cloud stares at her hand as it retreats to her side.

"I should go back." The admission sounds loud in the dark.

"Yeah, of course," Tifa says, a little disappointed, but keeping that to herself.

They both stand, and Tifa watches him go through the hole in the fence again. He crosses on the other side, but stops, then turns around to face her; he waves at her to come closer. Curious, Tifa does.

"Did you—" He hesitates and bites his lip. Finally, he carries on, "This morning, when you left, I felt weird for a while."

Tifa's eyes widen. "Like you couldn't breathe well?"

"Yeah, that." Cloud sighs, his relief palpable. "That must be part of being soulmates, right?"

"I guess so," Tifa says. "We'll know soon enough."

His eyes stray to his house as if worried about something. "Yeah, I guess."

Tifa can understand he wants to leave, so she says, "Goodnight," before backing away with a wave.

"Hey!"

She twists around, a foot on the deck's first step. "Yeah?"

Despite the dimness, she swears she sees his smile. "Happy birthday."

Her own smile grows; her disappointment evaporates. "Thank you."

The TV is still playing when she slides the door shut. Her father is sprawled in his armchair, his muted snoring heard once she turns off the TV. Tifa knows that when her Dad is snoring, it means he won't wake up, so she grabs the throw on the couch and drops it in his lap in hopes he won't be cold.

In her room, under her covers, Tifa stares at her ceiling and the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to it. They're not as pretty as the ones in the sky, but they've always brought her a certain serenity. It's a slice of the universe belonging to her and her alone.

Her arm stings suddenly, a flash that goes away just as quickly. It's not as bad as it did this morning, but enough to make her wince. Tifa brings it up and sucks in a breath when she takes in the elongated eight-pointed star mark on her skin. She runs her hand over it, amazed and frightened; her skin is smooth where the mark is. It's almost like a tattoo, she thinks, like her Dad's on his shoulder. For a second, she wonders if maybe it _is_ the same—if maybe her Dad has a soulmate too.

Because that has to be it, right? It has to be a kind of soulmate mark. She can't conjure any other explanation for the unforeseen manifestation of a tattoo where Cloud touched her. Tifa releases a loud breath and lets her arm fall back to her side.

"We'll figure it out together," she promises to no one.

Above, the stars glow as the only witnesses.

—


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to make this three parts in the end; this story got away from me, what's new.
> 
> This is for the favourite trait/physical feature prompt (vaguely, oops). The last part is still going to be posted on the last day of Tifa week.
> 
> Enjoy!

—

—

**Maybe we're from the same star**

—

_part two_

—

Cloud spends the summer of his eleventh birthday getting to know his soulmate.

He still does not understand what a soulmate is supposed to be, really. His Mom talked to him a week after the soulmate mark showed up on his wrist; she used _that_ tone, the one telling Cloud she's hiding something from him. It's the same tone she used when she announced his father left because he had _things to work through, he'll call soon_. But Cloud knows his father left because he got tired of them and that he will never call. What his mother doesn't know is that Cloud was awake the night his father was fighting with her about this, the night he grabbed a suitcase and disappeared. So when his Mom says _don't think about it, darling, you're young still_ , Cloud knows she's not telling him everything. And he trusts his Mom, so he doesn't understand _why_ she'd do that when nothing about having a soulmate sounds bad. Tifa is nice and funny and she's good at soccer, so he doesn't mind her being his soulmate.

They've seen each other since the first day; they are neighbors after all. But they haven't really talked. It's one of those things their parents seem to have decided on their own. Cloud doesn't like that—he's _never_ liked that—but it's worse in this situation. He figured it must because of the same force that made his chest hurt when Tifa left that day—something out of his control, something handed down to him by whoever decided they'd be soulmates. But then Cloud overhears his mother speaking on the phone. It's a month after his mark appeared. Cloud can't sleep. The insomnia happens often, and he's starting to know how to deal with it. He gets up and pads out of his room, careful not to make too much noise as he passes by his mother's room. That's when he hears her low voice—and his name. Cloud stops before the half-open door.

"—want Cloud to live that," she says to whoever is on the other end of the line, then falls silent a moment. "I _know_. Cloud tries to act tough, but he cares so much. That's what worries me. They're so young. It shouldn't have happened." The way her voice wavers on the last word makes Cloud's heart constrict, though he's not sure why. His mother listens to the other person; her tone changes, becoming harsh and full of anger, as she says, "He won't go through what I did."

Cloud stops listening, then. Something is off about his Mom; she sounds like a different person, bitter and scared, and that's not the Mom he knows. He continues his trek to the living room and plops on the couch before turning on the table lamp so he can read his comic book. He tries not to think about what he overheard, but it proves difficult. It sounds like his mother doesn't want him to have a soulmate. And he wonders why that could be. Soon, he puts the comic book down and stretches out on the couch, the light still on. It's how his Mom finds him.

"Cloud?" She speaks softly, afraid to wake him up. When he sits up, she comes close. "Can't sleep again?"

"Yeah."

His Mom sits next to him, pushing the comic book aside. "Anything bothering you?"

Cloud glances up at her. She looks tired, too tired. "No," he lies.

"Okay. Do you want to watch a movie?"

That's how he usually falls asleep—sometimes he reads. But tonight, Cloud isn't ready to sleep. His mind whirs too much.

"No," he says again. "I'll go back to my room."

If his mother finds his answer strange, she keeps it to herself; she only bids him goodnight with a weary smile. Once in his room, Cloud checks the time on his old school alarm clock his uncle got him—22:50. He looks at his bed, then at his window seat; the latter wins. A large tree hides most of Tifa's house—but not her room. He never noticed before, but now that her light is on, he can see her sitting at a desk below her window.

Cloud stares at her as she appears to be writing or drawing—he can't tell from the distance. His mother's words float around him, a reminder she doesn't want him to think of Tifa. And it angers him, he realizes, because isn't his soulmate _his_? Not his mother's or anyone else's; isn't that the idea behind soulmates? To have that one person for you? Cloud doesn't know what is meant to happen between them, or how it works—but the one thing he knows is that it's for him and Tifa to find out. He doesn't like the idea of someone else deciding how they should do that.

Not thinking twice about it, Cloud puts on his sneakers and a hoodie. He opens the window and throws a glance over his shoulder before climbing on the windowsill. The tree's branches are sturdy and extend far enough to brush the house; Cloud is careful as he grabs unto the closest one and scrambles for the next. After a while, he manages to make his way down, letting his body drop from the lowest branch. He lands on the grass and stays still for a few seconds, afraid all the noise will have attracted his mother. Once it's clear it didn't, Cloud takes off towards the hole in the fence. He's still surprised Tifa's father—or his mother—hasn't repaired it yet, but he won't complain.

He squeezes through the hole and walks under Tifa's window; her room is the only illuminated one. It hits him then that she doesn't know he's here, and there is no way to climb up, not on her side of the fence—but her window appears to be ajar. He calls her name, but his voice is too low for her to hear him. He tries again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. Cloud looks around for something to throw but soon dismisses the idea, afraid it'll scare her.

"Tifa!" he says again, as loud as he'll dare.

Cloud waits, tense from anticipation, but breathes out when her head appears in the window; he waves at her, suddenly shy and embarrassed. But it all evaporates when Tifa smiles and waves back. She opens the window wider and leans over her desk so he can see her.

"What are you doing here?" There's no denying the excitement in her voice.

The words get stuck in Cloud's throat because, really, he doesn't have an answer for her. He has no clue why he sneaked out; all he is sure of is that it felt right to do so. So he grasps for the first excuse that comes to mind.

"I thought we could watch the stars again."

"Oh. I'm not supposed to go outside at this hour."

Cloud chastises himself—he was stupid to expect anything else. But there's something about the way Tifa says the words, like she's rehearsing a line she's heard a million times before, that incites him to say, "I'm not supposed to either."

His cheeks heat at her silence, and he looks away. It's not because _he_ is angry at the adults deciding for them that Tifa thinks the same. The June night air is both cool and hot, refreshing and stifling. Cloud wishes he hadn't put on his hoodie—agitation warms him up and discomfort has him want to run away.

"Okay, well, I'll head back," he says since Tifa still hasn't said anything.

But when he glances up, Tifa isn't at the window anymore. The light is still on—and so is the one from the kitchen. His heartbeat speeds up at the thought of being caught by her Dad. Cloud almost runs for the fence when the door slides open and Tifa walks outside. Tension he wasn't aware burdened him releases at once, and it feels like he can finally breathe after being underwater too long. He jogs up to her, stopping before the deck. She joins him; her eyes sparkle with mischief, and he can't help but smile.

"Hi," he says because nothing else comes to mind.

Tifa giggles. "I've never sneaked out like this. This is great," she adds in a whisper as if her father will overhear.

"Me neither," Cloud admits. "It's kind of cool."

They lay down in the grass; the stars twinkle in welcome above them. Tifa points at something in the sky.

"That one is so bright. Do you think it's a plane?"

"Could be." Though Cloud is the one who said they could watch the stars, the truth, he finds out, is that he wants to talk. "Tifa, did your Dad say you couldn't see me?"

"What?" She sits up, stars forgotten in an instant. "No! Why would he do that?"

He holds in his breath for a few seconds as if the lack of oxygen will clear his mind; he exhales and then speaks. "My mom—it's weird, it's like she doesn't want us to be soulmates. I don't get it." Cloud allows the annoyance to surface in his voice. "She's deciding for me, I don't like that. You're _my_ soulmate, not hers." He can't help his shocked expression when Tifa lets out a laugh. "What's funny?"

Tifa shifts, sitting cross-legged. "It's cute," she says with enough enthusiasm to make him blush again. "I asked my Dad about soulmates again."

"Ah, yeah? And?"

"He says you and I are people who fit together. That soulmates usually share a destiny." She frowns, and Cloud gets the impression she's reciting what she was told without understanding everything.

"What, like if something happens to me, it happens to you, too?"

"I'm not sure." Tifa rests her cheek on her hand. "I think it means we have to do things together?"

Cloud hums as he takes in what she said. "We'll see."

They talk into the night, their voices hushed like they're afraid someone will overhear even if they are alone. Cloud tells her of Midgar; of how big it is; of how crowded it is. When Tifa says she'd love to see it—she can't imagine a place that huge—Cloud says they could go one day. It makes her smile, her eyes sparkling with delight at more promises. And Cloud likes the idea, too. There's something exciting about dreaming of a future where someone is a constant presence next to him. He wonders if maybe that warm, heartening feeling is part of being soulmates, but he keeps it to himself. Because if Tifa doesn't experience it, then it means he's alone in this, and the thought is scarier than it ought to be.

When Tifa yawns, Cloud gets to his feet. "We should go back."

"I don't want to," she says, then yawns again.

Cloud chuckles. "You're almost asleep." He extends his hand to help her up. "Come on."

She sighs and takes his hand, but doesn't let go. "Can I tell you a secret?"

The shy note in her voice makes him curious. "Yeah, of course."

"I don't want to wait another month to talk with you like that." She looks down at her feet.

"That's your secret?"

"Yes," she bites out. She goes to slip her hand out of his, but Cloud tightens his grip, not allowing it to escape.

"Because it's also my secret," Cloud says, a little embarrassed. Still, he senses it's important for him to say it.

Tifa's head rises at that. "Okay," she whispers.

They stand facing each other for a moment, and Cloud releases her hand and steps back. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

She nods. "Yes. For sure."

As they part and Cloud crosses into his backyard again, the tightness in his chest comes back. With difficulty, he climbs back up into his room; once inside, he collapses on his bed, exhausted. He kicks off his sneakers, wincing at the loud thud they make landing on the floor. But his mother doesn't come to check.

Cloud thinks, maybe, he understands what the pain in his heart is. But it sounds so momentous that he decides it can't be real. It can't be because he already misses her. No, Cloud tells himself, it must be because he was nervous about sneaking out and that's why it hurts. They happen sometimes, these bursts of trepidation that morph into pain and shortness of breath. And he was afraid of being caught, so that must be why.

For the rest of the summer, they sneak around on some nights—and every time, Cloud lives that same tight sensation when he climbs back into his room.

By the time he turns eleven, he can't lie to himself anymore.

—

Cloud discovers the kids in Nibelheim don't like outsiders. He should have guessed considering Tifa told him everyone knows everyone before school started. When the kids learn Cloud was held back a year, they snicker and make annoying jokes about how he is too dumb to move on to the next grade. Cloud doesn't have the energy or the intention to explain why—it's none of their business, after all. Tifa asks one night before they start school, as they hang out in not-so-secret; Cloud knows his Mom is aware by now, and he figures so is Tifa's father. And though Cloud doesn't enjoy talking about the last year, he tells her about his parents' ending relationship and the fights at school and his inability to focus. Tifa's eyes widen and she nods as he talks—Cloud doesn't think she understands what happened exactly, but he doesn't fault her for that; she's not the one who lived through it. And, truly, it's enough that Tifa _cares_.

He hates that they are a grade apart, and he wishes she could be in his class. Because he knows it would make school bearable, then—to have someone you know has your back close by. Still, she isn't far away, and they do what they can to hang out together. The evenings are where they talk, though. Once they are away from the rest of the world, everything just feels so much more real to Cloud, like he dreams during the day and lives at night. Perhaps it's because that's how they got to know each other; perhaps because Tifa is the only person Cloud cares about in Nibelheim other than his mother. This is what makes him reflect on soulmates again. Cloud still isn't certain he gets what they are supposed to be, but now he knows what it means to _him_.

It begins a little before school starts in September when Brian and his mother tell them they have to hide their marks. Something about the idea makes Cloud angry. He blurts out a biting _why,_ to which his mother snappily responds that it is _for their own good_. It almost devolves then, since Cloud and his Mom haven't seen eye to eye for the last year, creating tensions. But Tifa's Dad steps in, the more composed of the two, and says _children can be mean when they don't understand something, and soulmates marks rarely show up on kids your age_. His words calm Cloud down—he understands what Brian means too well. So he nods his agreement. After a moment, Tifa speaks up. Shyness saturates her voice when she tells them _but I don't want to hide it, I'm happy Cloud is my soulmate and my best friend_. Her declaration warms Cloud, like the sun rose within him and touched every part of him with its rays. _Me too, but I don't want them to be mean to you_ —Tifa relents when he says this, and the conversation ends there.

He wonders what he could use to hide his mark. The eight-pointed star isn't too big, but a watch doesn't cover it. The day he resigns himself to wearing long-sleeved shirts, Tifa knocks on their door; his mother lets her in immediately so she can take shelter from the rain. Cloud frowns when he notices she isn't wearing a raincoat, and he gets a towel from the bathroom. Tifa smiles when he hands it to her. She dries off her hair and clothes.

"I have something for you," she says after removing her wet sneakers and padding after him to his room.

"Yeah?"

They get comfortable on the window seat, and then Tifa fishes for something in her pants' pocket. "Close your eyes," she asks.

Cloud huffs but complies. Her firm grip on his left wrist almost startles him; his pulse accelerates, and he hopes she can't discern it. She wraps a few things around his wrist and then lets go.

"Okay, open them."

He knows what he'll see—she got him bracelets to mask his mark—but it still surprises him. There are two wide ones of braided leather and one with wooden beads—together, they conceal his mark almost perfectly. The lower point of the star is still visible, but only from up close. Cloud stares at his wrist, at a loss for words.

"You don't like it?" Tifa asks.

Cloud looks up, noting the way her eyes squint a bit and the way her hands twist in her lap, all signs of her nervousness. "No, I like it! I'm just…" He hesitates, not wanting to upset her, but carries on, knowing the truth is more important. "I'm a little sad. That we have to hide it, I mean. But I love what you got me."

"I'm sad, too," Tifa says, the words tumbling out of her. "I don't get why we have to hide something _right_. Why is it we're the ones who have to act like it's wrong?"

"It's not wrong." Cloud grabs her hand, squeezing. "It's the others who are."

As he speaks, Cloud senses his world shift—it expands and retracts, engulfing Tifa and constricting around them until there is no place for anyone else. That's when he decides it doesn't matter what being soulmates _really_ is—why should it when they have to pretend they aren't? What matters is what he chooses it to be. And he chooses it to be a universe of their own.

"Tifa," he says as he tightens his hold on her hand, "if we hide it, it becomes ours only. No one else has to know because no one else _needs_ to. Just you and me."

Panic swells when a few tears trickle down her cheeks, and Cloud lets go of her hand to grab a box of tissues nearby. Tifa sniffs as she dabs the tears away; he sits down again, unsure of how to act.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he mumbles.

"It's fine." Tifa balls up the tissue in her hand. "I'm not crying because I'm sad."

Cloud can't help his frown. "Then why?"

"I'm not sure," she admits. "But when you said that, I got so happy. It made me feel safe."

"Oh." He bites his lip, relief spreading inside him, and the urge to make a promise storms through him. "You'll always be safe with me."

Tifa smiles. "Thank you."

After she leaves, Cloud goes back to his room and lays down on his bed. He fiddles with the bracelets, making sure they cover up the mark as much as possible. It's weird not to see the star on his wrist, but he knows he'll get used to it in time.

And he does. Cloud only removes them to shower; he becomes so accustomed to the sensation on his wrist that it's stranger to have them off. But once he looks down at the mark, it's never unfamiliar—sometimes he even stares at it as the water flows over him, contentment filling him. When he puts the bracelets on again, it feels wrong until he remembers how the kids at school can be mean to him. He doesn't want Tifa to experience that. She has to wear long sleeves to hide her mark; it's too high on her forearm for anything else to cover it. She swears she doesn't mind, saying it gets cold enough past summer for her to wear them for the entire school year. Cloud knows her concealing it the way he does will have the opposite effect—people will wonder what she is hiding. Still, he wishes he could offer her something.

The other kids end up finding out, of course. For years, Tifa and Cloud keep it a secret. People know they are best friends, attributing their closeness to being neighbors. Neither of them dissuades these assumptions. When Cloud moves on to middle school, he makes friends. He's not sure why people suddenly become nice to him; these are the same kids who insulted and laughed at him last year. But he softens down the line, and he blames his loneliness for it, being unable to see Tifa until they both get home. And really, he knows it's not a bad thing—it's just that he can't let go of his distrust of them after having spent an entire year being the object of their mean-spiritedness.

That's also when Cloud realizes the difference between friendship and what he has with Tifa. Though he enjoys his new friends' company, it never compares—it always seems too shallow. These people don't get him the way Tifa does, and he doesn't want them to; he doesn't want anyone else to know him so deeply. There's something sacred about having no secrets with someone, and Cloud decides that is also what a soulmate is. He thinks he's beginning to understand better what 'sharing a destiny' could mean. He can't imagine something Tifa does not affecting him.

On a weekend towards the end of his last year in middle school, Cloud and his friends have decided to hang out at the park. So have a lot of other kids from school; Cloud isn't that surprised considering the beautiful weather. Tifa comes with him, wearing her usual long sleeve cardigan. It's a warm day, and Cloud can see she's uncomfortable despite the lightweight fabric.

"You gonna be okay?" he asks as they approach the park.

"Yeah." She gives him her usual soft smile, the one nobody else gets to see. "I'll just tie up my hair."

Cloud scratches at his bracelets as she searches for a hair elastic in her pockets; the temperature makes the leather stick to his skin, but he still keeps them on. It's second nature to wear them now. His friends decide they want to play soccer. Tifa sits out and goes to join other kids from school; Cloud hates that she chooses not to play because she'll get too hot with the cardigan, but he says nothing about it. Keeping their secret has been engraved into their heads for three years now. He keeps an eye on her as he plays, but the game gets serious, and he forgets to check after a while. When he takes a break, he realizes Tifa is nowhere to be seen. It happens at once, this horrible feeling of dread, this terrifying sense of foreboding. There's no telling if it's his own fear speaking or their soulmate bond letting him know something is wrong, so so wrong. But it doesn't matter; finding Tifa is all that does.

"Where did they go?" he asks the nearest guy who sat out of the game. At his blank look, Cloud adds, "Tifa and her friends."

"Oh, I think they said something about taking a short trek through the mountain."

Cloud doesn't thank him; he runs in direction of Mt Nibel without a backward glance. His heart beats a crazed, overbearing rhythm, drowning out all other sounds. He curses himself for not having checked on her, curses her for not telling him where she was going. Fear seizes him the closer he gets to the mountain, and he wonders if it's because Tifa is also afraid that he feels it so strongly; his thoughts spiral down until they crash into a pit of possibilities he would rather not think about. After an eternity, he reaches Mt Nibel and, though he doesn't understand why he knows he must take the hiker's path leading to the suspended bridge. As he heads further in, the faint echo of screams tell him he was right, goddamn it, he was right, and so wanted to be _wrong_.

Five kids from school stand on the edge of the bridge, staring down at the bottom of the small gorge and yelling at each other. Their panic is tangible; Cloud tastes it in the air and he wishes he could spit it out, but it's made its way down, down to his stomach.

"What happened?" he shouts as soon as he gets close enough. Tifa is nowhere to be seen, and he almost vomits as his fear concretizes. He doesn't wait for an answer before pushing them out of the way to stare down.

Cloud sucks in a breath when he takes in an immobile Tifa at the bottom of the gorge. He doesn't even realize someone is talking to him, doesn't realize someone is trying to hold him back as he steps towards the edge. The gorge isn't that deep and the slope leading down is rocky and steep; not so much that he couldn't get down there but enough that he won't be able to come back up. Cloud pushes at the hands grasping at him, not heeding the shouted _someone went to get help, don't go down there!_

The ground is slippery beneath his feet as he slides down the rock face, scratching his hands and arms. He almost loses his balance at the steepest section but regains it in time; when he reaches the bottom, his actions still haven't caught up with his brain. He kneels beside Tifa, careful not to move her despite needing the reassurance touching her would give him. His breathing is loud, uneven, and there isn't enough air, not enough—

"Tifa?" It comes out as a whisper at first, but his voice raises soon enough, and her name leaves him in a strangled yell.

Above him, the kids move and talk, their words carrying down to Cloud, but he can't listen to them—he can't bring himself to focus on anything else than his motionless soulmate. Blood drips from her right arm, a cut she must have gotten from the fall, and he figures she hit her head—she just hit her head and she'll wake up, won't she? Is this even happening or is he hallucinating? The pain that grips him is too intense to be real, too scary—fuck, he's never been this scared, and this can't be real, it can't be—

Tifa moves—a slight twitch of her uninjured arm—but it's enough for Cloud to break. A cry escapes him, and he grabs her hand, squeezing to let her know he's there, not knowing if it does anything, but if it _does_ —

She mumbles something he can't make out and then her eyes flutter open. She looks around, dazed and lost, but when her eyes rest on him, they clear. "Cloud?" Her voice is almost inaudible, nothing more than an exhale, really, but he hears it anyway.

"Yeah," he croaks, surprised he can even speak. "Yeah, it's me."

"I'm a little dizzy," she says, louder and more distinct this time.

"Don't move. The others went to get help." His hold on her hand tightens, and it saps all the strength out of him when she returns the squeeze.

She blinks, the motion slow like she's waking up from a dream. "How did—how did you get here?"

"I was so scared." The confession leaves him in a breath. He wonders how he can form words when he chokes on both relief and terror. "I was _so_ scared, Tifa."

Though it's not a genuine explanation, Tifa understands him. She groans as she tries to sit up.

"Don't!" Cloud reaches out to prevent her from moving, but she half-heartedly slaps his hand away. "You can't move if you hit your head."

"But I'm scared, too." She says it so simply; her voice shakes as if what happened suddenly came back to her.

Cloud notices then that he's trembling, and when Tifa hugs him and cries against his shoulder, he can't find the will to push her away, to repeat she shouldn't have moved. He needs the contact in order to believe she's here—his arms wrap around her of their own volition. They say nothing else—they don't need to—until help arrives.

What comes after is all a whirlwind to Cloud. He experiences everything like he's out of his body, Tifa's hand in his an anchor to reality. When she lets go to head to the hospital, Cloud feels stranded—the sheer terror he lived through still seems unnatural to him, and he swims in it all the way home. His mother fusses over him, asks him how is Tifa. She doesn't chide him for being reckless, either guessing now is not the time, or understanding why Cloud did it. It doesn't matter, he's just glad she leaves him alone in his room. Once he shuts the door behind him and finds himself in darkness, Cloud's emotions get the better of him. It's almost like when he has those bursts of anxiety. Only it's much, much worse because this time the fear is _real_ , not something his mind conjured.

The notion of loss has never hit Cloud as hard as it does now. He understands loss as a concept—doesn't everyone, after all? But now he _lived_ the possibility of loss, truly believed it was happening for a moment, and the all-encompassing distress that blazed through him has left behind nothing but charred bones and ashes.

Cloud's movements are jerky as he removes the bracelets hiding his mark. He stares as if expecting it will disappear. But the mark stays the same as it's always been—dark against his skin, a perpetual reminder inked by fate. Cloud keeps looking at it, willing the contentment that usually streams through him to appear. But it never does—now all he can think of is the panic and the horror of today. Then, the guilt at not having protected her washes over him, violent in its intensity. He promised her she'd always be safe with him—but it's not the case anymore, is it? That night, Cloud doesn't sleep. His old insomnia comes back to life, and he torments himself with what-if's and maybe's until the sun rises.

When Monday comes around, Cloud doesn't wear the bracelets anymore. The students don't show their surprise at the sudden revelation of his soulmate mark, not after this weekend. But Tifa does—he hasn't seen her since the incident on Saturday; his mother told him she got lucky and doesn't have any lasting damage, only a large cut on her arm and some bruises. Cloud couldn't bring himself to go see her yesterday, but he regrets it when she spots him at school and notices he didn't hide his mark. Her face falls; she tells her friend something and walks away. Cloud doesn't follow. It's not that he doesn't want to—he knows school isn't the place for this conversation.

They always go home together; Brian comes to pick them up that day. He tells them to climb in, but Cloud shakes his head and chooses to walk. He wants to give Tifa some time before talking to her. Though she appears hurt at his refusal, she stays silent as she gets into her father's car. It's only once the sun has set that Cloud walks into her backyard. The fence was repaired two years ago, and he wouldn't fit through the hole now, anyway. Brian once gave him permission to come into their backyard whenever, as long as it's not too late on a school night. Cloud has always respected that, not wanting to risk losing the quiet evenings he shares with Tifa. But tonight, he doesn't care. And he knows neither will Tifa.

She sits on the deck when he arrives, bundled into a large cardigan to ward off the chill, her knees brought up to her chest so she can rest her chin on them; her eyes don't stray to him when he sits next to her.

"Hey," he says, aware it's the lamest greeting he can come up with. Now that he's here, words fly away from him.

Tifa doesn't hesitate. "Why didn't you tell me you'd taken off the bracelets?" Because that is the actual issue, and not that he chose not to wear them. "You always said it was our secret," she adds when he says nothing. "Something we didn't have to share with the world."

"I need the reminder," Cloud admits. "I need to see the mark." Too late, he realizes how his words might be interpreted.

"You need a reminder I'm your soulmate?" Her voice is so low, he barely hears her.

"No." He turns to look at her; she's already facing him, and his heart breaks when he notes the shine in her eyes. "Of course not," he says gently. "Remember how I promised you'd always be safe?"

Understanding clears her features, but then she frowns. "This wasn't your fault. It was mine for not paying attention and walking too close to the edge."

"I knew something was wrong, Tifa." At her curious look, he points at his chest. "I _felt_ it. That's how I got there so fast. And I think, if I had paid more attention to that, I could have prevented this from happening. I kept checking on you that day, like part of me knew something would happen." He gulps, then exhales loudly. "But I didn't pay enough attention."

They stay quiet for a few minutes. To Cloud's dismay, the sky is obscured tonight, preventing them from observing the stars.

"You're not responsible for everything I do, Cloud." Tifa's statement sounds too loud to him. "Or everything that can happen to me."

"I can try to prevent it," he whispers, the admission ripped from him in a need to justify himself. "Don't take that away from me. Please."

"I don't think I can." Sadness drips from her words. "I just wish you'd talked to me before."

"You know I usually tell you everything," he says after a moment.

"Usually," she bites out.

Cloud is aware there is no good answer here. The damage has been done and taking back words he meant won't lead anywhere.

"I'm going to sleep." Tifa stands up and doesn't look at him as she walks back inside. The door slides shut behind her, the noise so final to Cloud's ears.

He waits, hoping she'll come back while knowing she won't. After fifteen minutes, Cloud goes back home, but instead of heading inside, he sprawls down on the grass of his own backyard. There's nothing to look at in the sky since the clouds are so dark and dense—it'll rain tomorrow for sure, he thinks. But he feels better like this; he can pretend he's eleven again and he sneaked out to watch the stars with Tifa.

Eventually, he goes back to his room. As he is about to slip into bed, he goes to his window, peeking through the overgrown branches to catch sight of Tifa's room. The lights are off; part of him had hoped she'd still be awake. He sighs and goes to sleep, twisting and turning most of the night, a presentiment that things won't be the same invading his mind.

And things _do_ change. Not right after that night, but slowly and surely. When Cloud starts high school, he senses the distance between him and Tifa widen. Tifa doesn't hold what happened against him—it's not like her to do so, and he never thought it would be the case. But despite that, there is a fragility between them that is new, unknown; something neither of them knows how to solidify.

It's when Tifa starts high school that the difference in their relationship becomes obvious—both to Cloud and everyone else. It's minor things at first, like them not having as much time to hang out after school, and thus leaving behind their routine of talking late into the night. They still do, but it's no more than once a week if that. They spend as much time together as they can at school until Tifa makes enough friends that she divides her time between them, and Cloud figures he has to give her that necessary space. He resents those friends—it's childish and jealous of him, he knows it. He would never bring it up to Tifa, and by now it's just one more unsaid thing that floats between them. So Cloud has his friends and Tifa has hers—there is nothing abnormal about that, and yet it hurts in a way he has difficulty explaining even to himself.

When he turns seventeen and his mother asks what he wants to do, he says he doesn't want to celebrate his birthday—no small party, no special dinner, nothing. His Mom looks baffled that he would refuse dinner with Tifa and her father, but she doesn't push as if understanding something is afoot. That day, Cloud doesn't stay home. It's stifling to be so close to Tifa and yet feeling so far away from her. They haven't planned for anything, but then again, they've spent all of their birthdays since her ninth one together; it's an unspoken tradition. On his seventeenth birthday, for the first time in six years, Cloud wants to be alone.

He goes to a favorite spot of his. It's a field on the outskirts of town, but still near to his house, with a large, abandoned house and several tall trees surrounding it. Cloud never enters the house, knowing it'd be stupid to do so considering its dilapidated state—instead, he sits beneath the biggest tree or lays down on the grass. Tifa is aware he likes to come here; she's accompanied him many times. That's why when he hears footsteps and sees her approach, he isn't surprised. The warm breeze tousles her long hair; she doesn't brush the strands away from her face.

"Happy birthday," she says softly.

She leans against the tree he sits against, disappearing from his sight.

"Thanks."

"Did you want to be alone?"

The way she asks is tentative; he wonders if she's afraid of his answer or if she's just become uncomfortable with him. "Yeah," he replies.

"Oh, I see."

"You know you're always welcome, Tifa." He sighs.

She comes to sit across him. It's hot outside today, a typical August day, but Tifa looks at ease in her shorts and tank top; her mark is visible to all, has been for a few years now. Cloud's heart aches as he looks at her—it longs for what they had and for what they should be.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming here?" she asks while running her hand over the grass. "Did you want to be alone? Or did you want to be without me?"

"Both." His confession just expands the chasm between them, but lies have never worked for them. "I needed time to think."

Tifa stiffens, then brings her hands in her lap; in spite of her apprehension, she doesn't look away from him. "Think about what?"

"A lot of things."

"Why can't you tell me?" The question is more of an accusation; it bursts out of her, and he hears the dejection and frustration in her voice. "It's like you're leaving me behind," she says, words rushing out like she's afraid to lose her courage. "Ever since the incident at Mt Nibel, you've grown more distant."

"It's not because I'm your soulmate that you have to spend all your time with me." It hurts to say, but Cloud figured that out long ago. "You have other friends, and I don't have to be part of everything you do."

Tifa's wide eyes are the first sign that a storm is brewing. "I made these _friends_ because you wouldn't spend as much time with me! I wouldn't have if you hadn't pulled away from me. It was enough for me to be with you. I miss you. I want my best friend back." Her voice wavers, and Cloud's breath hitches. "I want my soulmate back."

He doesn't know what to say—his jumbled thoughts whirl too fast for him to keep up. He latches on to the realization that he might have been wrong this whole time. Across of him, Tifa dabs at her eyes as tears fall; her efforts are futile as more follow. Something in him shatters, but it's hard to tell what. His resolution to give her space, maybe, or his restraint over his jealousy of her friendships—he's not sure. Cloud scoots closer to her, as close as he can get, and pulls her hands away from her face. Tifa stays still as he cradles her cheeks and musters the gentlest touch he can to wipe the tears away.

"I want you back, too."

Her hand comes up to grip his left wrist; her fingers wrap around his mark and her thumb presses against his pulse. "Can it be just you and me again?" Her plea is so soft he would have missed it if he wasn't so near.

"Yeah, I'd like that," he says just as softly. "I'm sorry for before."

Tifa shakes her head, and his hands fall at his side; she doesn't release his wrist, though, and turns it around so she can look at his mark. Her thumb strokes the skin over it.

"Happy birthday," she says again.

This time, she smiles, and Cloud's heart skips a beat.

—

The abandoned house in the field becomes their new place, succeeding Tifa's backyard. While it's within walking distance of their houses, they still can't go every night—instead, they go on the weekends. Occasionally during daytime, most often at night. This time spent together is like a grown-up version of their childhood. It's the same but so different; in this field beneath the stars, they are alone and together at once, protected from the rest of the world. They still meet during wintertime, bundling up as needed. For the first time since Tifa fell down the gorge at Mt Nibel, Cloud is at peace.

Because Tifa and him are a team again—it's them against the world, an echo of when they were young. It's deeper than what they used to have, maybe because they've known bad times and learned from them. But beyond that, Cloud feels grounded around Tifa, like he never knew he was adrift before grabbing on to her hand. The tight sensation in his chest almost disappears, a radical change from the last two years—even when they are apart, Cloud doesn't get the impression of being too far.

It's all in his head, he thinks, until one night Tifa confesses it's the same for her. They lie on the grass as usual, the late October wind chilly enough for them to have brought a blanket. They're out later than usual, but it's a Friday night, so neither of them cares, and his Mom and her Dad trust them with each other. Cloud startles when she grabs his wrist—always the left one, always over his mark.

"What's up?" he asks, twisting his head to glance at her. It's not abnormal for her to do this, but the way she grips him a little too hard betrays her.

"Today was…weird."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she says while keeping her eyes on the sky. "Like something was off. But I feel better when I touch you." She gives his wrist a squeeze. "That's okay, right?"

Cloud holds in his breath a few seconds, almost afraid to have this instant pass—it's as tangible and real for Tifa as it is for him. The revelation fills him with an indecipherable mess of emotions; the only distinct one is a gentle kind of bliss. It's like understanding something makes you happy—so happy—but being unable to bask in that euphoria yet. When Cloud exhales, Tifa's hand still circles his wrist; it's not enough all of a sudden, so he moves to grasp her hand and intertwine their fingers.

"It's more than okay," he replies. "I feel better when we touch, too."

After that, it becomes an unconscious habit of theirs. But something about displaying their own brand of affection to the world appears almost disloyal, so they stifle the addictive urge. Still, when Cloud can, he will rest a hand on her back or her shoulder; when Tifa can, she will clasp his wrist or lean against his arm. Once they retreat to their little universe, they sit with their shoulders touching or hold hands as they watch the stars. There's just something so _right_ about this to Cloud that it never crosses his mind it could be any other way.

On Tifa's sixteenth birthday, they hide away in the field. It's a beautiful night, warm but breezy, with a clear sky. The stars twinkle down on them as he wishes her a happy birthday when midnight hits.

"I forgot my gift at home," he says with a sheepish smile. "I'll give it to you when we head back."

She says nothing, only grabs his hand; Cloud sits against the tree and Tifa across him. Her lack of answer paralyzes him—he lets it grow for a moment before it becomes too much.

"I'm sorry I forgot." The way he says it sounds comical to him. He knows this isn't the reason for her silence, but nothing else comes to mind.

Tifa takes a deep breath as if steeling herself, and her eyes raise to meet his. Though he's never told her, Cloud has always loved her eyes. Their color is unique—a strange, warm shade of brown some have said. He's always thought they shine a deep, clear red. And, really, if he's the only one who sees it, it's just another thing about Tifa that's _his_.

"I'm happy you got me a gift, but…"

Cloud tightens his hold on her hand. "But…?"

"There's something I'd like to ask for my birthday."

"Yeah, of course," he says, a little puzzled she never brought this up before.

She breathes in deeply again. "I want you to kiss me."

Cloud blinks several times, stunned at her demand. "What?" The word leaves him of its own volition. It's hard to say through the dimness, but he's sure her cheeks redden. He senses his pulse drumming in his throat.

"I want my first kiss to be with you," she says. Determination lights up her eyes. "Don't you want your first kiss to be with me? Unless…" She trails off, her mortification apparent.

Cloud doesn't catch on her meaning immediately, but when he does, his voice comes out louder than he wants. "No! That's not—" He blows out a breath to steady himself. "I want that, too. I didn't expect you to ask for that."

"Why not?" She frowns and lets go of his hand. "There's no one else I'd want to kiss. Only you. I thought you'd know that."

"I'm not—" Cloud sighs and drops his head in his hands, feeling both thrilled and scared. "I'm sorry, I just need a minute."

"Okay," Tifa says in her soft voice, the one spelling her insecurities.

He rubs his hands over his eyes as if to will the shock away. When he looks at Tifa again, there are unshed tears in her eyes; he gulps at the sight and curses himself.

"Don't cry, please."

"I never thought you'd react like that," she says before hastily wiping the stray tear on her cheek.

"Tifa, I just… I want to kiss you, too," he admits. "But you shouldn't ask for this because I'm your soulmate." Her disbelieving expression has him swallow whatever else he was going to say.

"I don't want to kiss you _because_ you're my soulmate. It doesn't even matter right now. I ask because I want it to be you. Not my soulmate. Just _you_."

He stares at her with wonder. Ever since they met, Cloud has known he's loved Tifa. There have been times where he's wondered if his love was real or a consequence of their intertwined fates—but he left those questions behind a long time ago. He can't count the ways he loves her. A lot of them are old, dating from when they were kids; most of them are new, starting from the day he was so terrified to see her in the gorge, so horrified at the idea of having lost her. In the last year, he's come to understand being soulmates isn't the reason he loves Tifa—she is his soulmate because there's no one else he could love like this.

It's suddenly all too much for him. His voice is a rasp when he says, "I want it to be you, too."

"Then why did you—"

"I was afraid, okay?" He clears his throat once, twice. "That it wouldn't be for the same reasons as me."

"Cloud, you know me better than that."

Tifa's gentle reprimand makes his heart constrict and draws a hushed confession out of him. "You scare me." He doesn't stop when she frowns. "When I think of what you mean to me, I'm—terrified, Tifa. If you'd only wanted this because you thought you had no other choice—"

She shushes him as she shifts, kneeling before him; Cloud sucks in a breath when she frames his face in her hands and tilts his head back a little. His vision narrows down to Tifa and the starry sky haloing her. As she leans forward, he stares into the twinkling eyes he loves so much until it becomes too intense—his heart will explode—and his eyelids flutter shut. When her lips brush against his, it feels impossible, surreal. Tifa pulls away a little, and Cloud opens his eyes, having the need to confirm this is reality. And it is, he realizes when Tifa kisses him again; his heart does explode, then. His arms wrap around her, bringing her close, so so close.

Tifa's lips drift to his cheek, lingering there for a second before she breaks away; she keeps her hands on his shoulders as if refusing to let go completely. Cloud blinks, a little dazed.

"Can you hold me?" she asks in a whisper.

He nods and moves so she can sit in between his legs and lay against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Tifa grabs his left wrist, bringing it up to look at his mark. She's run her fingers over the skin there a thousandth times, and yet Cloud shivers at her touch.

Her breath caresses his neck as she says, "Do you remember when we met and we promised to figure this out?"

"Yeah, of course." Cloud is pretty sure there's nothing about his time with Tifa he could forget.

"Do you think this is it? Have we figured it out?"

"I don't know," he says because it's the truth, "but I hope so."

"Me too," she whispers.

Cloud rests his cheek against the top of her head and closes his eyes. He allows happiness to engulf him and prays to the heavens for the night to never end.

Above, the stars sparkle in a wordless answer.

—


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this was going to be the last part, but!! As I wrote this, I realized it was getting too long and too crowded. So I'm splitting it up (again) because I think the reading experience will be better. 
> 
> The last part (I promise this time) will be up either on the 9th late or on the 10th.
> 
> Technically, this is the chapter for the free day, but I think I can cheat and say it's for the 'favourite relationship' prompt, hehe.

—

—

**Maybe we're from the same star**

—

_part three_

—

Tifa spends her seventeenth year away from her soulmate.

On the morning Cloud leaves to attend university in Midgar, Tifa can't find the energy to go on with her day. She tried when she woke up—she dressed, went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth. But then she walked back into her room to get her phone and saw the notification for a message from Cloud. All at once, the reality of his departure, the one she'd suppressed since waking up, overwhelmed her, and she collapsed on her bed.

It's warm in her room, and she kicks the covers at the end of the bed. She looks at the star stickers on the ceiling, the ones she never found the will to remove—they remind her too much of starry nights and promises. And yet right now she wishes they were gone; she can't envisage looking at them every night for the next year. Her eyes close when she hears the front door open and voices rise; despite being muffled by her door, she knows who the second voice belongs to. The sound of footsteps grows louder; he knocks on her door. Tifa doesn't answer.

"Tifa?" Cloud's voice is soft as if afraid to wake her up, but her father must have told him she was up earlier.

It hurts to hear him while knowing he'll be gone in a few hours. Tifa can't imagine living a year with him _away_. The prospect is suddenly real, too real, and it coaxes her sadness out of hiding; short, muted sobs escape her. It doesn't feel like crying, not exactly; there are barely any tears. It feels like something is scratching at her insides to get out, and she needs to expel it before it shreds her to pieces. Tifa brings her hands up to cover her face as if to mask her pain. The logical part of her is aware she'll be able to talk with him, to see him through video calls—but that is so different, so scary when she is used to seeing him every day. When she is able to grab his hand whenever she needs that reassuring feeling his touch brings.

She hears her door open and Cloud coming closer; Tifa twists on her side in the vain hope to conceal her state from him. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, and when he strokes her arm, the tears fall at last. Cloud says nothing, and she doesn't want words of comfort, anyway. She just wants him to stay. Him leaving—no matter how temporary it is—feels like losing parts of her. Cloud is too many things—the guy she loves, her best friend, her soulmate. Their lives have been intrinsically linked for so long that his presence fills countless fissures in her soul, and she fears that with him gone, she won't be whole again.

Her breathing evens out after a few minutes. Cloud's hand drifts to her hair, and he runs his fingers through the strands; the movements are gentle and careful so he doesn't hit any knots. It soothes Tifa enough for her to finally face him. His hand moves away to avoid tangling her hair.

"Hi." There are dark circles under his eyes and his smile is slight, strained.

"Hey," she whispers.

Silence falls, and for the first time in years, Tifa doesn't know what to say. The apprehension surrounding his departure has sapped the familiarity out of their interactions. It's Cloud who recovers first; he pulls at her arms until she sits up. Though she doesn't want to move, she complies. There's no point in staying hidden in her room all day—she knows that. But stepping outside feels like allowing time to keep on ticking; in the cocoon of her room, with Cloud at her side, she can pretend they never have to abandon their slice of the universe. Cloud leans forward, grabbing tissues from her night table, and hands them to her. She dabs her tears away, then gets up to throw out the tissues; he doesn't stop her when she exits her bedroom.

Once inside the bathroom, Tifa splashes cold water on her face, hoping it will snap her out of this miserable state. When she looks up at the mirror, she sees Cloud leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. Her eyes find the bracelets she gave him years ago—only this time, he wears them on his right wrist. The sight chokes her up again, but she takes a deep breath and swallows down the rising melancholy.

"I didn't think you still had those," she says, not turning around. She needs to distract herself, needs to busy her hands. The makeup bag on the counter catches her attention, and she pulls out the tube of mascara.

"Of course, I still had them." Cloud doesn't move from his spot, but he keeps his eyes on hers through the mirror.

Tifa applies the mascara mechanically. "They're supposed to be on the other wrist." She's not sure why she says that; it sounds bitter and childish, like she's itching for a fight when it's not the case. It's anger she needs to evacuate, she realizes, even if it's not directed at him. But before she can soften her statement, Cloud speaks up.

"I'm not hiding my mark again," he says.

She shoves the mascara back into the makeup bag, deflating at his blank tone. "I'm sorry." She lets out a breath. "I didn't mean that."

"I know."

Of course he does. There isn't much they _don't_ know about the other, and in the moment, it's just another painful reminder of what she's losing for a time. Tifa drops her hands on the counter to support herself. For the last six months, this day never appeared that momentous, and she never thought her reaction to it would be so intense.

"It's only a year," she says, loud and clear as if to convince herself. When she repeats the words, she understands that is what she is trying to do.

"Tifa." Cloud comes behind her, his hands on her shoulders pressing down in a wordless indication to relax. She hadn't even been aware of how tense her body had become. "It _is_ only a year, and then you'll come to Midgar as planned."

Because that is what they decided. Once Tifa graduates, she'll attend university in Midgar and come to live with him. When they had spoken of this to their parents, Cloud had said it was the best option for everyone—she wanted to go to Midgar, he'd need a roommate, and her father wouldn't want Tifa to be all alone in such a big, faraway city, wouldn't he? Tifa had been surprised her father hadn't protested; she had never expected him to say no, but she had figured they'd have to fight more for this. But her Dad had shrugged after a moment of silence and said that it indeed sounded like the best solution.

They've never discussed the exact nature of their relationship with their parents. In a way, they don't even know. To them, they just _are_. Putting labels has never seemed like a necessity. Things changed ever since her sixteenth birthday, ever since that night she kissed Cloud and the world flared up with colors, but they've kept this mostly secret. Not wanting to share what they have is a habit from their childhood they couldn't leave behind. So when Cloud had said they could be roommates, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. But Tifa hadn't missed the amused glint in her Dad's eyes; he had understood what they were doing. She'd kept silent about this once Cloud and Claudia had gone, and so had her father.

"It just seems…so far away," she admits after a stretched out silence. "Even when I rationalize it, I can't accept it."

"It's hard for me, too." He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses the back of her neck, nothing more than a feather-light brush of his lips. "You know I'm gonna miss you."

"I know," she whispers, finally releasing her grip on the counter. Tifa glimpses their reflection, and for some reason, it's too much to take in—the way she folds against his body, the way he rests his head against hers. She twists around to hug him, hiding her face in his shoulder. All morning, she focused on how difficult this would be for her, but now she realizes Cloud won't have it any easier, half a world away in a city he barely remembers, surrounded by so many unknowns.

"I'll miss you, too." His shirt muffles her words, but the way his arms tighten around her tells her he heard.

"Come on, you need to eat," he says though he makes no move to pull away.

"I'm not hungry." It's true; the anxiety turned her stomach upside down.

Cloud sighs into her hair but doesn't push it. "Are you sure you don't want to come to the airport?"

Tifa stiffens. "We've already talked about that."

"Kind of." There's no annoyance in Cloud's voice, only a mild sadness like he tried to hide it, but it seeped through.

That she wouldn't accompany him and his mother to the airport is something she decided two days ago. It wasn't planned that she would, but Tifa was aware it was expected. The night before she had told him of her decision, she had twisted and turned in her bed, picturing them saying goodbye in such a public place; pictured him walking away to get through security. Anxiety had assailed her violently, then—the first sign that she wasn't handling this as well as she thought. In the morning, she had let him know she'd stay in Nibelheim. Cloud's hurt had been visible, and the tension had thickened enough to be palpable. Neither of them had urged their point, and the conversation had come to a standstill. Tifa doesn't want to discuss this again.

"Do we have time to go to the field?" Even though she knows what he'll say, she can't help but ask.

Cloud hesitates, then steps back. "We'll have to take the car."

Tifa's head snaps up at his answer. This isn't what she had expected. "Really?"

"We won't have long. C'mon," he says as he grabs her hand and leads her downstairs.

They only stop so she can say 'good morning' to her father before climbing into Claudia's car and taking off.

"You already had the keys," Tifa says. She glances at him, noting a smirk on his lips. "You knew I would ask."

"Had a hunch," he replies smoothly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I didn't want to lose time."

Her heart hurts at this; she'd rather forget they have less than one hour left. The drive to their usual spot is less than ten minutes. Once they get to their favorite tree, Tifa sprawls out in the grass, staying under the shade of the tree. Cloud sits next to her, resting back on his hands.

"I wonder if I'll like Midgar," Tifa says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"It's just so different."

Cloud laughs. "Understatement."

"I'm sure it'll be fine." She turns her head to look at him, finding his eyes already on her. "I'll be with you."

His features soften, losing the edginess from earlier. Cloud shifts so he's leaning over her. "Everything will be fine, Tifa. I pro—"

She puts a finger over his lips to keep him from continuing. Hearing this kind of promise will only make her sad. Though she says nothing, Cloud gets it—he understands she doesn't care for words right now. He dips down to kiss her; his hand slides in her hair, tilting her head back a little. Tifa wraps her arms around his neck to bring him closer and closer—she wants him to melt into her because then he wouldn't be gone, not really. Cloud drops kisses along her cheek, making his way to her neck, her collarbone, down the skin exposed by the V-cut of her blouse. Tifa runs her fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands to bring him back up so she can kiss him again and again.

Time stops and everything is _good_ —Cloud is here and so is she. The sun heats her skin and the grass brushes against her; it's a dreamlike state, like she found the place she wants to stay for ever and ever. But the illusion splinters when Cloud breaks away from her and checks the time on his phone. When his eyes widen, and he jumps to his feet, Tifa curses herself for believing in that idyll for even a second; it made the nightmare of her reality so absolute.

They hurry back to the car, and Cloud drives them back to his house. Claudia is already on the porch, looking more than pissed off. Tifa slowly gets out of the car, ignoring Claudia scolding her son. She takes in the scene with an absent mind—Cloud runs into the house to get the last of his things, Claudia on his heels; they come back and load his luggage in the car; her father saying goodbye before throwing her a worried glance and walking back into their house. Tifa can't believe what she's seeing because—

This can't be it, can it? This can't be how they part.

"I'm coming with you," she says, the words bursting out before she can think over her decision. "I'm coming to the airport."

Cloud freezes, hands on the trunk to close it. Claudia falls silent as well; she pushes Cloud out of the way and shuts the trunk.

"Are you sure?" Cloud asks as he comes around the car to Tifa's side.

She nods, and the relief in his eyes is apparent.

"Then, let's go, you two!"

Claudia's voice has them scramble to get inside the car. Cloud sits in the backseat, and Tifa is glad she didn't have to ask him. The drive to the airport in Rocket Town goes by too fast—the three of them chat, then let the silence grow, only to talk again. Once more, Tifa is struck by how ordinary everything seems even though this is the last day of what she knows as 'normal'. The bustle of the airport makes Tifa anxious; Cloud's departure is now very, very real to her. She makes efforts to control her breathing, but she can tell Claudia notices as they wait for Cloud to check in his luggage. Because they left late, there's no time for Cloud to hang around with them, and they walk towards the line for security. Tifa's heart beats so hard, so fast that she can't imagine it not splitting open.

Cloud says goodbye to his mother first; Tifa glances away not only to give them privacy but also because it means _her_ goodbye grows near. When she feels his hands cradling her face and raising her head, Tifa inhales deeply to keep calm. As much as this is tearing her apart, as much as this is scaring her, she'd rather not show it to the world. Cloud gives her a small smile, but she sees the disquiet in his eyes. Tifa grabs his left wrist, encircling his mark, pressing her thumb against his pulse—feeling it always soothes her, but today it does the opposite.

His voice is so low she has to strain to hear him. "I love you, okay? It'll be fine."

"I know," she lies, gulping down the panic. "I love you, too."

Cloud lets out a long breath and moves suddenly, crushing her against him; the strength of his hug almost hurts, but Tifa doesn't mind. She doesn't want him to go. And yet—

"Cloud, you have to go," she whispers into his neck.

"I don't want to." His mumble is nearly lost into the noise of the airport. Still, he breaks away a little, just enough so he can kiss her.

Tifa closes her eyes at the wildness of his lips on hers. They never display affection like this in public, an unspoken understanding between them, but at the moment, she couldn't care less. When he pulls back, it takes a lot out of her to let go.

"I'll see you soon," he says.

Though Tifa wants to close her eyes, she watches him walk through the gate leading to security. She feels a hand on her arm, knows it's Claudia, and yet she can't bring herself to move. Tifa holds her breath as Cloud disappears from sight.

"Tifa," Claudia says kindly, "we have a long drive ahead of us. Let's go."

Tifa nods, the gesture reflexive more than anything. They exit the airport and walk to the car. The whole time, Tifa feels weird—stunned, maybe, like what happened hasn't hit her yet. It's when they drive away from Rocket Town that she realizes Cloud has left, and the tears fall in silence. Claudia notices, but she gives Tifa time before speaking.

"It hurts when they leave, doesn't it?"

Tifa keeps quiet; the pain in her chest—that pain she hasn't felt in such a long, long time—is horrible, almost unbearable. She's not even sure she can speak, or she'll vomit. But Claudia seems to get it.

"The pain was terrible when my soulmate left," she adds. The way she says it is almost casual, but there's no hiding the undercurrent of grief. "Mind you, our situation was different from yours and Cloud's. Still, the pain is the same."

It takes Tifa a few minutes to get herself composed enough to talk. "Was it Cloud's father?" She knows he left them the year before they moved to Nibelheim.

"No," Claudia replies with a snort. "It was someone else. It doesn't matter now, of course. That was years ago."

A vague memory from when Tifa was a child surfaces, and she asks, "Was this why you didn't want Cloud to have a soulmate?" This is a question she's never dared to ask, but she can't see the opportunity presenting itself again.

"Oh, dear. It's a little more complex than that." Claudia sighs. "I didn't want him to get hurt the way I did, yes. I figured growing up together would create a strong bond between the two of you, and I was afraid it would hurt Cloud if something happened to you." She chuckles. "But that boy has never listened to me, so I gave up a long time ago. It had nothing to do with you, Tifa."

"I never thought that," Tifa says because it's true. She never got that impression from Claudia. With jerky movements, she wipes the tears off her cheeks, holding in the next wave.

"It's okay to cry, Tifa." Claudia smiles and, eyes still on the road, turns the radio on.

Grateful for Claudia's understanding and for the noise drowning out her soft sobs, Tifa lets the tears fall.

—

[08/29 - 18:31] C: _just landed in midgar._

[08/29 - 18:33] T: _did it go well?_

[08/29 - 18:34] C: _second flight was delayed but yeah it was fine._

[08/29 - 18:34] T: _can you call me once you get to your apartment? i want to hear your voice._

[08/29 - 18:37] C: _yeah. me too._

[08/29 - 18:40] C: _i already miss you._

[08/29 - 18:41] T: _i miss you too._

[08/29 - 18:41] C: _will you still be up in two hours?_

[08/29 - 18:43] C: _never mind, forgot about the time difference for a second. it's almost midnight here._

[08/29 - 18:43] T: _i forgot too! call tomorrow if you're too tired._

[08/29 - 18:44] C: _no. i want to hear you._

—

[09/04 - 12:13] T: _school sucks without you._

[09/04 - 12:20] C: _obviously._

[09/04 - 12:21] T: _i'm serious._

[09/04 - 12:23] C: _so am i._

[09/04 - 12:23] T: _i really wish you were here. i hate that I'm spending my last year without you._

[09/04 - 12:25] T: _i wish you could be here for my birthday._

[09/04 - 12:36] T: _i'm sorry, i know that was selfish._

[09/04 - 12:37] INCOMING CALL - CLOUD

—

[10/31 - 20:23] T: _are you up?_

[10/31 - 20:30] C: _yeah, what's up?_

[10/31 - 20:32] T: _i wanted to show you my dress for tonight._

[10/31 - 20:34] C: _the kimono one you talked about?_

[10/31 - 20:40] T: _yes._

[10/31 - 20:40] T: You sent a photo

[10/31 - 20:41] T: _do you like it?_

[10/31 - 20:48] T: _hellooo??_

[10/31 - 20:52] C: _that was mean. really mean._

[10/31 - 20:53] T: _but do you LIKE it._

[10/31 - 20:55] C: _you knew i would like it._

[10/31 - 20:56] C: _you look amazing._

[10/31 - 21:00] T: _i don't even feel like going._

[10/31 - 21:03] T: _honestly i just wanted to wear this for you._

[10/31 - 21:07] C: _i wish i was there right now. you're bringing that to midgar._

[10/31 - 21:08] C: _and you know you'll have fun if you go._

[10/31 - 21:10] T: _i know. but i'd rather have fun with you._

[10/31 - 21:14] T: You sent a photo

[10/31 - 21:16] C: _fuck you don't play fair._

—

[11/20 - 03:06] C: _i'm sorry, i know it's the middle of the night for you._

[11/20 - 03:08] C: _but i just…i miss you a lot._

[11/20 - 03:09] C: _i woke up two hours ago and i've been feeling like shit. i wish i could hold you right now, you know that always calms me down._

[11/20 - 03:20] C: _i wish i'd stayed home for the year._

[11/20 - 03:51] C: _forget that please, i don't want to make you feel worse about this situation._

[11/20 - 07:42] CALLING - CLOUD

[11/20 - 07:42] CALL DECLINED

[11/20 - 07:43] T: _please pick up. i need to talk to you._

[11/20 - 07:59] T: _i know you're ignoring me. don't do that._

[11/20 - 08:14] CALLING - CLOUD

[11/20 - 08:15] CALL DECLINED

[11/20 - 08:15] C: _i'm in class._

[11/20 - 08:16] T: _call me when you're done. please._

[11/20 - 16:32] CALLING - CLOUD

[11/20 - 16:32] CALL DECLINED

[11/20 - 16:37] T: _fine._

—

[11/22 - 19:45] INCOMING CALL - CLOUD

[11/22 - 19:45] YOU DECLINED THE CALL

[11/22 - 19:52] C: _i'm sorry, i was feeling really bad about all this and i needed a moment to myself. it's really hard to be here, i'm trying my best but i get days where i regret it. i know you'll tell me i shouldn't regret it even if you also wish i was home. i don't want to be unfair to you but at the same time i don't want to lie._

[11/22 - 19:56] C: _i want to talk to you, please._

[11/22 - 20:11] T: _you could have just said you weren't up to talking to me instead of refusing my calls._

[11/22 - 20:14] C: _i know. i'm sorry._

[11/22 - 20:30] CALLING - CLOUD

—

[12/31 - 19:00] C: _it's already the new year here so…happy new year. i can't wait to see you. sorry I couldn't go home for christmas._

[01/01 - 00:00] T: _happy new year! i'm sorry i didn't reply earlier, i didn't see the message. you'll see this in the morning but i love you and i wish i was with you. it's ok about christmas, we all understood._

[01/01 - 00:02] C: _still awake. love you too._

[01/01 - 00:05] T: _why aren't you sleeping, it's like 5am for you!_

[01/01 - 00:10] C: _insomnia._

[01/01 - 00:13] T: _again?_

[01/01 - 00:14] C: _it's been bad recently. i didn't say anything since it usually goes away after a few days._

[01/01 - 00:16] T: _how long?_

[01/01 - 00:20] C: _two weeks._

[01/01 - 00:21] T: _give me a minute._

[01/01 - 00:22] C: _sure._

It takes Tifa a while to find a room that's empty in her friend's house. The door muffles the music well enough, and she's glad to find it has a lock. Once she's sure she won't be bothered, she plops down on one couch; the room is an office with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and an enormous wood desk. She doesn't care where she is as long as she can be alone.

[01/01 - 00:34] T: _still up?_

[01/01 - 00:35] C: _yeah._

She presses the button for a video call, excitement making her pulse drum faster. It takes seconds for Cloud to pick up, and when the camera turns on, her breath hitches. It's not the first time they've done this kind of call, but it's always a slight shock when she sees him, like pieces just fall into place. Cloud reclines on his bed, his lamp on the night table the only source of light. He gives her a warm but tired smile once he sees her.

"Happy new year," he says.

"Happy new year." She smiles as she burrows deeper into the couch and sits cross-legged, getting comfortable. "What did you do?"

He rubs his cheek with the hand not holding the phone. "Not much. My roommate dragged me to a party, but we didn't stay long. We were back half an hour after midnight hit."

"It wasn't fun?"

"We both weren't feeling it." Cloud shrugs.

"That sucks."

"It's fine. I wasn't in the mood to party, anyway."

Tifa bites her lip. "I'm not either. I went because I needed the distraction."

"Yeah…" Cloud sighs. "This sucks."

"It does," she says softly. "So why can't you sleep?"

He stays quiet for a minute, then says, "I think it's stress. While everything is happening, I can keep calm under pressure, but once I have nothing to do, it catches up to me. I was stressed about the end of the semester, not going home for Christmas." He pauses. "I also really wanted to see you, and I know you did, too."

She knows him well enough to guess he feels guilty. "Don't feel bad about that."

"I'm trying." Frustration enters his voice, and his face mars in a frown. Tifa can't say if he feels this way before he's tired or because he's fed up—probably both. "I'm trying, but sometimes it's hard. I keep thinking I'm letting you down," he says with a loud sigh.

"Did you drink by any chance?" she asks, her tone dry.

Cloud opens his mouth, and she knows he's about to deny it when he closes it—only to reopen it and say, "Yeah. It's New Year," he adds, almost defensively. "It's New Year, and I miss you, and I feel like shit. I might have drank a little."

"It's fine," she says gently. "You're usually less open, that's why I asked."

He shakes his head. "I'm open with you."

"I know." She's seen Cloud in this state before, when he's drunk just enough to let down some walls while keeping his head. It's a different kind of candor than his usual one. "I really miss you, too," she says instead of arguing.

"Fuck, I hate this." His words are nothing more than a mumble, but she hears them. His voice gets clearer as he carries on, "I want to kiss you, to feel you, just _be_ with you." Cloud ruffles his hair to let out his irritation. "I hate this," he says again.

"I'll be there in summer, you know that."

"Summer is too far." He sounds like a petulant child, but Tifa reins in her laugh.

"I think it's far, too. But you're having fun, right? Didn't you say your roommate is a funny guy?"

Cloud grunts a wordless answer.

"What will he say when I come take his place?" Tifa asks with a playful smile.

"I don't care what he says," Cloud says, too seriously. "He's leaving the second you get here."

This time, she lets out a laugh. "Why, do you want me all to yourself?"

His smile is slow and lazy. "You know I do." A yawn escapes him, and he covers his mouth with his hand.

"I think you should go sleep," Tifa says even if the idea disappoints her a little. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"

Though he looks like he wants to protest, a second yawn decides for him. "Okay. Good night."

"Good night."

As she goes to hang up, Cloud speaks again. "That dress looks amazing on you. You should bring it with you."

Tifa ducks her head to hide her satisfied smile. "Will do."

"With that kimono from Halloween."

"Good night, Cloud," she says while laughing.

"Yeah, yeah." He yawns for the third time. "Later."

She presses the red button before she can change her mind.

—

[03/27 - 14:31] T: _hey are you alright? you never replied yesterday._

[03/27 - 16:05] T: _cloud? i'm worried._

[03/27 - 18:46] CALLING - CLOUD

[03/27 - 18:47] YOUR CALL WENT TO VOICEMAIL

[03/27 - 19:03] T: _cloud this isn't funny, if you're ok just answer me._

[03/27 - 19:10] C: _sorry, i'm fine._

[03/27 - 19:12] T: _don't lie to me._

[03/27 - 19:18] T: _what is going on._

[03/27 - 19:23] C: _i don't feel good._

[03/27 - 19:24] T: _do you need to go to the hospital?_

[03/27 - 19:36] C: _no, i just…don't feel good._

[03/27 - 19:39] T: _cloud, please talk to me._

[03/27 - 20:00] C: _i feel bad because i'm having fun here. i'm making friends and going out and it's fun but you're not here. you're still home and i know you hate it. and sometimes i forget about all this but when i remember i feel bad. i feel like i'm doing something wrong by having a life here and i can't enjoy it anymore, but then i feel guilty when i speak with you. i don't know what to do anymore._

[03/27 - 20:10] C: _i just need some time to think._

[03/27 - 20:13] T: _can i call you._

[03/27 - 20:18] C: _i'm tired. it's late here. we'll talk tomorrow ok?_

[03/27 - 20:26] T: _alright…_

—

[03/28 - 08:54] CALLING - CLOUD

[03/28 - 08:55] YOUR CALL WENT TO VOICEMAIL

[03/28 - 15:31] CALLING - CLOUD

[03/28 - 15:31] CALL DECLINED

[03/28 - 19:18] T: _i won't call you a thousand times._

[03/29 - 02:37] T: _i love you, please talk to me._

—

[04/19 - 15:13] YOU HAVE A NEW VOICE MESSAGE:

_Hi… It's Cloud. Tifa, I'm…I'm sorry for how I've been recently. For ignoring you. I just want to explain as best as I can. I know it's unfair. You've been such a huge part of my life for so long that I felt like I was betraying you by making a place for myself here. I've been thinking a lot and I feel better with this now. I think I understand where I'm going wrong. I just…sometimes I think of my seventeenth birthday. You told me I was leaving you behind. I guess that stuck with me. I'm afraid to let you down. You're so important to me, and I'm terrified of hurting you. But I feel like it's what I keep doing. Anyway…please call me back. I love you, okay? Just…please. Remember that._

[04/19 - 19:02] T: _i'm not ready to talk to you yet._

[04/19 - 19:05] C: _ok, i'll wait._

[04/19 - 20:47] T: _i don't know when i'll be ready._

[04/19 - 21:01] C: _i'll wait._

—

On her eighteenth birthday, Tifa stays home. Her friends from school tell her how lame that is, but Tifa doesn't care. It rains that night, anyway, and she doesn't care about a lot of things recently. Her father and her have dinner together before she goes into her room. She's glad he abstains from asking questions about Cloud or her perpetual foul mood. Once she's hidden away from the world, Tifa sprawls on her bed and stares at the ceiling. The glowing stars are still there, but tonight, she hates the sight of them, so she sits up cross-legged with a sigh. For what must be the hundredth time today, she checks her phone. Still nothing from Cloud. She throws the phone on the bed. While she doesn't want to be childish about this situation, part of her can't help her whirlwind of negative emotions.

Tifa picks up her laptop from her night table, deciding she needs a distraction. She puts on the first movie that looks remotely interesting. Fifteen minutes in, boredom takes hold of her, and her mind keeps wandering to her phone again. Still, she resists the urge of checking again and again. She'll just be disappointed again and again.

The knock on her door startles her, and she pauses the movie. "What is it, Dad?"

Her eyes are already back on the screen when he walks into the room, but his silence puzzles her; Tifa looks up, a question on her lips, and senses her heart stop when she sees who stands in the doorway.

Anxiety and tiredness radiate off Cloud in waves. His button-down shirt is wrinkled to hell and back, left open over a T-shirt with a coffee stain. A travel backpack is slung over his shoulders. At her perplexed stare, he shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward.

"Hi," he says.

"What are you doing here?" The words leave her even though she didn't mean to be rude.

Cloud shuffles his feet, taking her shock in stride. "You said you wanted me to be there for your birthday."

"I—that—that was months ago. In September," she says, still stunned. Her brain can't seem to process what is happening.

"I know."

Her heartbeat speeds up, going faster and faster until she thinks she will cry or scream or puke. "What about school?"

"I finished my exams yesterday."

Finally, Cloud moves; he drops his backpack on the floor, and the movement snaps Tifa out of her shock. She closes the laptop and climbs off the bed.

"I don't get it," she says, aware the statement is ridiculous. It's the only thing she can say, though.

"What don't you get?" Though Cloud tries to keep his tone even, there's no denying the flicker of anger in it. "It's not because we're fighting that I love you any less. You wanted me to be here; _I_ want to be here." When she doesn't answer, he sighs. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah," Tifa replies automatically, staying put as he pads closer.

It sinks in at once that Cloud is _here_. She had gotten so used to the idea of not seeing him for another two months that his sudden presence was surreal. And despite the ugliness of the last weeks, she feels the happiness, the warmth he brings unfurl within her. As Cloud stops in front of her, Tifa acts on autopilot; she grabs his wrist and wraps her fingers around his mark, pressing her thumb against his pulse—its frantic rhythm betrays his nervousness.

Tifa had forgotten how grounding, how calming touching Cloud was. All that distance, all those months apart had dampened her memory. She's always felt a little stupid for thinking this sensation is caused by their soulmate bond, and even up to now she's had a hard time believing it. As she tightens her grip around Cloud's wrist, she realizes it really isn't the bond—it's just Cloud himself. Cloud, who is like home to her; who is the person she never loses sight of; who is as part of her as she is part of him.

Emotion seizes her, making it difficult to breathe or speak. "Hey," she rasps. "Welcome home."

The words release something within both of them—Tifa can feel it in herself and see it in Cloud. He reaches out and hugs her, enfolding her close against his body; he rests his forehead on hers, and she knows from his relieved expression that he feels as soothed as she does.

"How long are you staying?" she asks, her voice soft.

"I have to go back tomorrow. I couldn't take a leave from my job."

Tifa runs a hand through his hair, settling at the base of his skull. "You came for less than twenty-four hours?"

The look he gives her is telling enough, but he says, "It was important."

"You really didn't have to do this, you know?" She smiles, slow and gentle. "But I'm happy you did."

"I know. That's why it was important." His eyes close as if he is absorbing the moment, and when he reopens them, she sees the guilt in them. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

She doesn't say it's fine, because she's not sure it is. Still, she doesn't want their time together to be filled with excuses and regrets.

"We can talk about that later, okay?"

"But—"

Tifa tilts her head back so she can kiss him, a quick brush of her lips against his to get him to shut up. "Later. I promise." They can't avoid this forever, but right now, she couldn't care less.

Cloud gets the message this time, and when he cups her cheek and kisses her, Tifa sighs. She pulls them back so they tumble on the bed, refusing to let go. His hands come up to steady their fall, and he laughs through their kiss.

"I missed you," he whispers against her lips. "I really, really fucking missed you."

A crash followed by curses coming from downstairs makes them jump apart, and Tifa remembers they're in her house with her Dad. The situation elicits a chuckle out of her; Cloud allows himself a slight smirk. He falls down on the bed next to her; Tifa presses against his side, clasping his hand and intertwining their fingers.

"I missed you, too," she says.

"You still have the stars on your ceiling." Cloud's voice holds an amused note, but mostly she hears the nostalgia.

"I almost removed them." The admission hurts now. "I'm glad I didn't."

In answer, Cloud squeezes her hand. Though they still have things to talk about and issues to work through, this moment feels right, real—and Tifa thinks she's finally earned an interlude from the nightmare of not having her soulmate by her side.

—


	4. part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I'm a liar.
> 
> Took me a while to figure out what to do with this as it grew (of course it did), which is why I didn't post as planned. So, here we are, with a few more chapters to go. I'm sorry?
> 
> M rating is in effect starting from now.

—

—

**Maybe we're from the same star**

—

_part four_

—

Cloud spends his twentieth birthday without his soulmate.

It's strange because she was supposed to be in Midgar already, but plans change—Tifa had to delay her departure by more than a month when her father had a work accident. Instead of being here early July, she'll be here mid-August. In less than a week, really, but it's been long enough already for Cloud. The selfish part of him couldn't help but be disappointed when she had told him—he'd reined it, his worry for Brian trumping.

His phone shows a new message, and he almost misses it in the cacophony of the bar. The live band isn't bad, but the music isn't why he and his friends are here—the cheap alcohol is the reason Zack chose the place. Tifa's name flashes a second time on his screen, and he opens the messages, having an idea what he'll find.

[08/11 - 21:56] T: _are you having fun?_

[08/11 - 21:56] T: _i really wanted to be there for your birthday._

Across from him, Zack laughs, loud and drunk, cheering on Reno to chug his beer. Next to him, Vincent bobs his head to the music. Cloud looks at his friends with a certain fondness but then senses his heart pinch. Though he's gotten better at understanding he _can_ have a life here without Tifa, it still feels wrong, disloyal. He knows it's because they've been so close for so long, their bond so precious and deep. Having other friends has always been an issue between them, something he is aware shouldn't be the case.

On his left, Aerith leans in to check his phone, and Cloud moves so she can't. Aerith on the drunk side of tipsy becomes nosy as hell; she chuckles at his reaction.

"Is it Tifa?" she asks.

"You know it is," he replies as he goes back to the message thread.

[08/11 - 22:01] C: _you'll be here in a few days._

[08/11 - 22:02] T: _i just feel like I should have been there you know?_

[08/11 - 22:02] T: _you came all the way home for mine._

[08/11 - 22:04] C: _all I care about is that you'll be here soon._

[08/11 - 22:07] T: _i need to finish getting dad settled. have fun, i'll talk to you later._

Cloud frowns a little; he knows Tifa enough to tell something is wrong. He debates calling her, but the noise from the bar or the busy street will be too loud, and he sees no point in having a conversation where they can't understand each other. So he types a quick reply telling her he'll call when he gets home and puts the phone away for now.

"It's your birthday, why are you so sad?"

Aerith giggles and pokes at his soulmate mark. Cloud snaps his arm to his side the second she makes contact, trying to hold in his irritation. He knows she's just teasing, but he hates anyone other than Tifa touching his mark. There's something about the way Tifa's fingers circle his wrist in a need for reassurance that is sacred to him.

"Don't do that," he says with as much calm as he can.

But Aerith has already turned to talk with Zack, and Cloud knows she didn't hear. A glass of beer appears before him; he looks up to see Vincent retracting his hand.

"Drink up." Vincent's voice is deep and calm, with an inflexible quality. "Have some fun."

Cloud laughs if only because Vincent saying that with such a straight face is funny in itself. "Thanks, I'll take it."

Seeing Cloud's head is back with them, Zack calls for a birthday toast. Cloud groans, both pleased and embarrassed, but joins in. As he drinks his beer, he momentarily forgets about the phone in his pocket.

—

"Stop fidgeting. You're making me nervous."

Cloud sends a glare Zack's way before turning back to watch the people streaming out from the arrival gate. Tifa's flight landed a while ago, and it shouldn't be long before she comes out. He plays with the leather bracelets on his right wrist, then shoves his hands in his pockets, then checks the last message she sent him over twenty minutes ago.

[08/16 - 14:36] T: _just landed_.

"Relax." Zack drags the last syllable. "There are a lot of people, so it's normal if it's taking a while." At Cloud's silence, he adds, "Can't wait to meet the reason I'm now homeless."

"You're not homeless," Cloud says. "You moved in with Vincent."

"A detail."

Cloud twists to give his friend a wry look. "Aren't you being a little dramatic?"

A strange sensation seizes him—a pressure he hadn't even realized lay in his chest lifts, and yet he can't breathe properly, as if his anxiety and excitement shot up at once. Zack says something, but Cloud isn't listening; he can't listen, too focused on looking for Tifa. There can't be any other explanation for what is overtaking him.

It takes seconds for him to spot her; she wears loose, comfortable clothes for travel, and her hair is up in a bun, tendrils framing her face. Her eyes snap to his the moment he finds her, and Cloud lets out a loud exhale. He faintly hears Zack says something; again, his brain doesn't register the words. Tifa picks up the pace even with the big suitcase behind her and the cumbersome backpack on her shoulders. Cloud can't move, can't speak—he can only stare as the reality that Tifa is truly here to be with him crashes into him. She comes to a halt before him and smiles; she speaks, but her voice is lost to the bustle of the airport. There's something about seeing Tifa, about knowing she's here to stay, about her being so close that makes Cloud realize how his heart had cracked in her absence. The warmth from her smile radiates and fills the crevices that had formed, allowing it to be whole once more.

"You're here," he says, too softly to be heard.

But Tifa's smile tells him she did; it expands as Cloud cradles her face in his hands, stroking his thumbs along her cheekbones. Despite wanting to feel her body against his, he doesn't hug her, and neither does she. He thinks it's because they've never been the type to display much affection in public. But then, as Tifa circles his left wrist like she always does, Cloud realizes it's because he wants her all to himself—he wants to regain that little universe they create together.

"How did the flight go?" he asks.

She turns her head to lay a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist, and Cloud's heart almost bursts. "It went fine. I slept through most of it."

"Good."

Someone close by clears their throat. Cloud sighs as he remembers who drove him here. He slips a hand into Tifa's so they can turn around to face Zack. Tifa leans against his side and intertwines their fingers.

"That's our driver for today." Cloud gives his friend a sharp smile.

Zack flips him off. "I'm the roommate."

"Ex-roommate," Cloud cuts in.

"Happy to finally see you," Zack carries on as if nothing was said. "Maybe now this guy will stop moping."

Tifa wraps her free hand around Cloud's arm. "I'm Tifa."

"Oh yeah, don't worry, I _know_." Zack chuckles. "He whines a lot when he's drunk."

Cloud rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore the jibe. "His name is Zack, by the way."

"What, you never talk about me? Not cool, man."

"He's mentioned you a few times," Tifa says. A half-truth, but it's enough for Zack.

"C'mon, let me get that." Cloud gestures at the heavy pack on her shoulders. "We're parked kinda far."

She shakes her head. "It's fine. Lead the way," she tells Zack with a smile.

As they make their way to the parking, Cloud lets them fill the silence with their chatter, too focused on the softness of Tifa's hand in his. The last time they saw each other was on her birthday, over three months ago, and the time they had together was too short. There's always been an unearthly aspect to his reaction to Tifa, but he doesn't remember experiencing it this strongly in years. The last time was when she fell in the gorge on Mt Nibel, and he sensed something was wrong from afar. Only this time it's a good feeling, almost a joyful presentiment. Part of him thinks it's just the shock of reuniting, of knowing they won't have to separate again for as long as they want—it exponentiates any sensations associated with her. When they reach the car and Cloud places her luggage in the trunk, he decides the reason doesn't matter—only the feeling of happiness does.

He sits in the backseat with Tifa, grateful that Zack shuts his mouth for once. They take off and spend most of the drive in silence. Tifa falls asleep after twenty minutes, right as they are to enter the city proper. The rush hour is in full swing, forcing them to slow down to a ridiculous pace. Zack groans when they hit a section where traffic stalls. He meets Cloud's eyes through the rearview mirror and raises an eyebrow in a silent question. Though Cloud has an idea what the question is, he plays dumb.

"What?"

He takes care not to speak too loudly, and Zack does the same.

"So she's your soulmate?"

Cloud nods. Every one of his friends is aware he has a soulmate; Cloud doesn't hide his mark, and he doesn't deny it if someone asks him. In Midgar, people are used to seeing marks on others and aren't shy about questions. But he's always been reluctant to speak _of_ his soulmate to others. If they don't ask directly, Cloud doesn't say who it is. It has nothing to do with Tifa herself, but with his unwillingness to share her and what they have with the world. He is aware it's selfish in many ways, but he can't help it. The only person who ever approached the topic head-on is Aerith early in their friendship, and he'd been honest with her. But when she'd asked if Tifa was his girlfriend, it had struck Cloud as strange. All he had done was repeat Tifa was his soulmate because to him, it explained everything. Aerith hadn't brought the topic up ever again.

Zack doesn't push for more, mindful of Tifa sleeping—but Cloud is aware his friend also knows better than to inquire. They chat until they near the apartment; Zack maneuvers the car into the only parking space on the street as Cloud wakes up Tifa. She groans and rubs her eyes, then snaps them open when she realizes where they are.

"Shit," she whispers as she takes in the surroundings.

Cloud lets out a quick laugh. "Welcome to Midgar."

"You should have woken me up." Her reprimand is without heat.

"You needed to sleep."

She gives him a sheepish smile. "I didn't think I was this tired."

They both get out and round the car to get her things. Zack has already removed the suitcase from the trunk and hands the backpack to Cloud; he shuts the trunk before turning to them.

"Thank you, Zack." Tifa grabs the handle of the suitcase. "I'm sure I'll see you around?"

"For sure," Zack says with a laugh. "We need to have a proper conversation. I have to know Cloud's most embarrassing secrets."

Cloud takes Tifa's hand and leads her towards the building. "Thanks, Zack. Bye, Zack."

"Really feeling the gratitude, man!" More laughter follows Zack's shout.

"Thank you!" Tifa calls out over her shoulder.

Cloud thinks he hears Zack yell, "At least one of you has manners," before the door to the building falls shut behind Tifa and him. He gestures at her to hand him to the suitcase so he can carry it up the stairs.

"How are you feeling?" he asks as they climb.

"A little nervous, I guess." Tifa hums as if in thought. "Weren't you a little rude to Zack?"

"No." When she laughs, the sound low like she tried to hide it, Cloud says, "I want us to be alone."

Tifa has nothing to say to that, and with the suitcase in hand, he doesn't turn around to see her expression. It's only when they reach the third-floor landing that he does—his heart skips a beat at the yearning in her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," he says, aware his voice came out a little rough.

But she doesn't take offense; she knows him better than that. "Like I want to be alone with you, too?"

"C'mon. This way." His grumble elicits a chuckle out of her.

The apartment is at the end of the hall; Cloud unlocks it and pushes the door open for Tifa to go in first.

"It's strange," Tifa says as he walks in and then locks the door. "It's like I know this place from the photos and what you told me, but I really don't."

Cloud turns, throwing the keys on the small table in the hallway; he goes to say something but stops himself when he finds Tifa only a foot away.

"Hey." Her voice is soft, but then she takes a deep breath, and it comes out a little shaky. "Is this really happening?"

He smiles, slow and sure. "Come here."

Tifa doesn't hesitate; the force of her embrace backs them into the door. Cloud almost laughs at this, but Tifa being in his arms—and the relief it brings—triumphs. His arms wrap around her, bringing her as close as possible; her breath warms his neck as she twists her head to rest it on his shoulder. They stay like this a moment, just basking into each other's presence, but then it's not enough; it's never enough, Cloud thinks as he grips the nape of her neck to tilt up her head. Tifa lets out a soft whimper when he kisses her, and he tightens the arm circling her waist in answer, lifting her so she stands on the tip of her toes. Her fingers dig into his shoulders and his neck. As his lips stray to her cheek towards her jaw, Tifa presses fully against him; he groans, trapped between the hardness of the door and the softness of her body.

"Please," she breathes in his ear.

It's a request for many things, and Cloud knows it. He slips a hand below her loose T-shirt, gliding it along her back with slight pressure so she can curve into him even more.

"Cloud." The way she whines his name makes him believe nothing else matters; nothing but touching Tifa; nothing but feeling her skin sliding against his; nothing but her, her, her. "Please," she says again, more desperate this time. "I haven't been with you in so long."

Despite not wanting to, he pulls back a little to look into her eyes. They shine with anticipation and desire and longing, and Cloud exhales as emotions grow within him, making it hard to breathe. "I'm being considerate. You just got here, and you were sleeping fifteen minutes ago."

"I don't care," Tifa says, punctuating her statement with a harsh kiss.

When she backs away, he sighs, letting his head fall against the door. Eyes half-lidded, he watches Tifa unzip her sweater and throw it on the floor; her T-shirt follows, leaving her in her sports bra, and then she's close again. She unfastens the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders once she's done, and Cloud offers no resistance. Her skin on his feels amazing, almost dreamlike, as if he can't wholly believe this is true. Tifa grabs his hand, stepping back and drawing him away from the door. Sunlight floods the main room of the apartment, caressing their skin, and illuminating Tifa; it catches unto the ruby tint of her eyes and he feels his breath hitch, not having realized how much he missed just looking at her. He comes to a sudden stop and tugs on her hand to bring her back against him. There's something soulless about going in the darkness of his room when he could be with her in the sunshine. As he kisses her, wild and greedy, Cloud hoists her up in his arms and drops her on the dining table; he steps forward until he stands in between her legs.

"I thought you wanted to be considerate," Tifa says, laughing.

His hands slide along her ribcage, stopping at the hem of her bra. "I want to look at you."

"I want to look at you, too," she whispers as he lifts her bra and tosses it away.

Cloud places his hand over her sternum, over her heart. He opens out his hand and applies light pressure to get her to recline a little. Her chest pushes against his hand as her breathing becomes uneven, and the sensation quiets his mind until all that remains is the two of them.

He leans over her and brings her closer to the edge of the table, flush with him so her legs can encase his waist. "Untie your hair." He speaks the demand into her skin, kissing along her collarbones and lower still.

"The plane made it gross and—" Tifa trails off when he grinds against her, holding her so close that she has no choice but to feel him. She moans, the sound quiet yet so loud.

Cloud lays more kisses over her breasts, exploring and teasing. "I want to look at you," he says again like it justifies it all for him.

She shifts to bring her hand up to her hair. He breaks away a small amount to see her hair cascade down her back. With another gentle push, he gets her to lay back on the table; her hair fans out over the surface. Cloud watches the sunlight ripple over her body, his heart constricting and expanding, hurting him in a way he craves. He brushes his knuckles over her cheek, down her chest and over her breast, then to her stomach. Her muscles tense at his feather-light touch.

"You're so beautiful," he says in a murmur, almost oblivious to his own words. Cloud drops forward to kiss her again and again, everywhere and anywhere. When he speaks, his lips stroke her skin. "I missed you."

Tifa's hands find his hair, and she winds her fingers through the strands. "Me too."

"And I love you."

"Me too." She gasps when he steps back, pulling down her leggings just enough to mouth kisses across her hipbones. "I love you, too." She tugs on his hair, and he glances up to see her sit. "Later," she pants.

Cloud drags her leggings and underwear all the way down. "Let me show you I missed you."

"Not now." Tifa frames his face and brings him level to hers; her lips find his, her urgency palpable. "All I want is you inside me," she says as she tightens the grip her legs have on his waist.

He groans as he discerns the warmth of her through his shorts and drops his forehead on her shoulder. "Fuck," he rasps when she discards his remaining clothes for him. "Are you still—"

Her arms encircle his neck, and she grasps on to him so there is no distance between them; her nails dig into his skin. "I'm on the pill, it's fine. Cloud, please," she breathes out. "I want to be with you."

Tifa lets out a soft grunt as he sinks into her. "You okay?" he asks in her ear.

"It's just been a while," she says before laying a kiss on his jaw. Her legs squeeze him, urging him on. "Please don't stop."

Cloud clasps the back of her neck, forcing her to look at him. He stares at her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, her darkened eyes—he watches as her eyelids flutter closed and her tongue peeks out when he moves. "Come on, look at me," he coaxes, running his thumb over her bottom lip.

She whines, low and needy, and opens her eyes again. There is barely any space between them, only enough to breathe, but this is how they both want it. Her skin sliding against his feels beyond surreal after so long apart; there's nothing grounding about touching Tifa right now. With Tifa as the catalyst, he will fly apart from the bliss blooming inside him. He kisses her, swallowing her sighed litany— _please please please_. He answers her with a prayer of his own—her name muttered against the skin of her neck, over her pulse. When he comes, so does she, and the sweet noises she makes echo in his ears. As he gets down from his high, Cloud realizes his grip on her is tight, too tight, like he could will her body to never part from his. He raises his head and loosens his hold—to his surprise, Tifa lets out a quiet noise of protest, still entwined around him. Cloud laughs, the sound deeper, rougher than usual, and then places a kiss on her lips. His smile grows when she drifts to his cheek and his jaw, dropping gentle kisses along the way. He hums his contentment.

"I want to stay like this," Tifa says, a hushed confession.

He nips her earlobe. "Don't you want to see your new place?"

"I don't need a new place, I just need you." At his satisfied groan, she pushes away a little so she can stare in his eyes. "I'm so happy right now," she whispers. "I'm afraid if you move, it'll end."

Cloud can't say he doesn't think the same—if they part, this moment will slip through his fingers, and he doesn't want to lose it either. The hand not supporting his weight slides down her back, pressing her into him. "Then I'll stay here." Her mark captures his attention as she leans back; Cloud grabs her arm, twisting it so he can observe the eight-pointed star. He absent-mindedly strokes the skin there.

Sometimes, Cloud can't believe or understand what Tifa and him share—sometimes, it scares him. It's a strange kind of fear, one born from awe and devotion; one where he keeps climbing and climbing to reach a peak that never comes. This is what unearths the fear, really—this never-ending suspense as he thinks it _can't_ go on like this forever, and yet it does. There is no telling if the mountain will crumble, no telling when he'll free-fall. And as high as he's gotten, he knows the descent will hurt.

Tifa kisses him again and again, her need clear as she grips his left wrist and guides his hand down her body. There's nothing gentle about them this time. As Cloud drives into her and mouths silent words on her skin, he doesn't think of dives and ascents, or of fear and insecurity—today, his mind is only filled with wonder.

—

Tifa's first night in Midgar is a restless one.

As the night advances, she realizes she feels confined; the room she and Cloud sleep in is small, barely big enough for the bed and dresser and desk. So is Zack's old room, which Cloud says can be an office. The principal room with the dining area, living room, and kitchen is open and spacious enough, and Tifa likes it. But really, it's not so much the size of the space that makes her feel this way—it's the unfamiliarity of it.

She lies in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Headlights from passing cars filter through the window, distracting her, and the noise of the city is overwhelming. All of her life, she knew nights as being dark and silent. Next to her, Cloud sleeps on his stomach, his face buried in his pillow. Tifa twists her head to look at him, still a little amazed at being here with him after a year apart. This all feels like an illusion, a dream from which she'll wake up anytime soon. Maybe that's why she can't sleep, she thinks, because then the idea of waking up will be too real, and that scares her. Her gaze finds the ceiling again.

"I can hear you overthinking."

Though Cloud mumbles the words and his pillow muffles them, she hears him. "Go back to sleep," she says softly.

The sheets rustling and the mattress dipping gives away his movements; he lays an arm over her stomach and drops a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"What are you thinking about?" The way he speaks is slow and lazy; he's only half-awake.

The urge to share her thoughts is hard to resist despite not wanting to disturb him. "Everything is…weird."

Cloud hums. "Is that bad?"

"No…just weird." Part of her wonders if she's not lying. "I'll get used to it."

"You will."

Tifa doesn't reply, and soon she feels the caress of his deep, even breaths against her shoulder. Still, she can't fall asleep. Everything is too much all at once—the lights, the noise, the unknown—and she slips under Cloud's arm, doing her best not to perturb him. It's a little cold in the main room; she hasn't unpacked her clothes yet, so she searches through her suitcase for a sweatshirt. She puts on the first one she finds and goes to sit on the couch, phone in hand. It's 2:31 here, and for a moment she debates calling her Dad but then settles on texting him _good night_. Seconds later, her phone rings; Tifa smiles when her father's picture fills the screen.

"Hi, Dad."

"Can't sleep?" Her father's familiar voice eases some of the weight in her chest.

"No," she says, keeping her voice low. "It's noisy."

He chuckles. "It's a big city, Tifa."

"I know." She bites her lip, a little embarrassed. It sounds so simple coming from someone else. "But I'm not used to it."

"Don't worry about that. You probably can't sleep because of the time difference."

More embarrassment seeps in when she realizes she hadn't thought of that; she clears her throat. "Probably."

"Try to sleep, Tifa. We'll talk more when you're rested, alright?"

"Sure." In the background, she hears him getting up and walking around. "Is your leg okay?"

"Yes, it is," her father says with a note of exasperation. "You left because it was okay, didn't you? Stop worrying about that. Go to sleep."

It's her turn to let out a soft laugh. "Good night, Dad."

"Sleep well, Tifa."

She ends the call but keeps the phone in hand. Still not tired, Tifa finds her photos folder and scrolls up. There aren't a lot of pictures from the last year; most of them are shots of Nibelheim, a few are of her alone or with friends, some are of random things she found interesting. They are a stark contrast to the ones beyond this past year; Cloud appears in most of those, either on his own in candid shots, or in impromptu selfies with her. He's never been the biggest fan of having pictures taken, but he relents when it's her. She's uncertain what she hopes browsing through her photos will do—make her sleepy, maybe. After having gone through most of her photos, she exits the app and drops the phone on the couch; she brings her knees up and wraps her arms around them. From where she is on the couch, she glances at the street below through the gauzy drapes. There are cars passing and people walking still despite the late hour.

Tifa sighs when she hears the bedroom's door open and footsteps following. She hadn't meant to wake him up. She turns around to see Cloud standing at the entrance of the short hall leading to the bedroom. Before she can apologize for the noise, Cloud pads over to the couch and sits next to her.

"You okay?" he asks, then yawns.

"Just talking to Dad." She plays with the hem of her sleep shorts.

"So not okay?"

She shrugs, not feeling like speaking of this right now. Instead, she curls up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm comes around her, and he moves until they're lying on the couch. Tifa strokes the skin of his arm, wanting and needing that peaceful sensation she gets from touching him.

"Tifa?"

"Hm?"

His fingers slip below her tank top, digging into her back, bringing her closer. "You know it'll be fine." His sigh ruffles her hair. "Try not to stress so much."

Tifa knows he's right; it's only that the unfamiliarity of everything surrounding her is overwhelming, and Cloud is her sole anchor. It feels like she is adrift at sea, lost in unexplored territory, and yet she can always find her way home. When she thinks of it this way, her anxiety ebbs a little, enough that her heart loosens and allows her to breathe.

"I'll try," she promises.

Cloud's answer is to tighten his hold, and this time, soothed and reassured, Tifa's eyes drift closed.

—


	5. part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks around corner* ....Hi?
> 
> It's a little short, but it's a start *finger guns*
> 
> Shout out to Epik High for sponsoring the inspiration.

—

—

**Maybe we're from the same star**

—

_part five_

—

The bar is loud, and Tifa hates it.

Or rather, she hates tonight, and tonight they are hanging out at the bar. That’s how she’s come to refer to all the places Cloud’s friends bring them to; they all look the same, sound the same—in the end, all nights just end up being the fucking same. She had imagined her life in Midgar to be different—not an endless cycle of going to school and hanging out at another bar. Maybe she’s being unfair—she thinks about that pretty often—but in the last two months, it’s become harder and harder to let that feeling go.

Next to her, Cloud laughs at something someone said; his chuckle is quiet, inaudible almost, but she hears it. It could be that what she hears is the memory of it; she’s listened to the softness of his laughter for so long and captured the accompanying smile so many times—the sound is as much a part of her as it is a part of him. It strikes her as selfish that she doesn’t want others to hear what she does—but she just adds it to the pile of unfair thoughts that have been plaguing her since coming to Midgar.

The noise surrounding them is just that to Tifa—noise. At this point in the night, when they’ve all had one too many drinks, she’s taken on the habit to stop listening. They talk about things and people and places she doesn’t know; the familiarity she doesn’t share with them is just another reminder of the distance that grew between Cloud and her—this distance she’s tried not to let grow without success. It might not even be distance, really, but it’s the only word Tifa can think of—it’s what it feels like.

Cloud’s hand rests on the table, his fingers drumming to the rhythm of the music, and the urge to grab his hand, to touch his mark is overwhelming in its intensity. She craves the reassurance and the peace of mind—but he moves before she can and picks up his glass, and Tifa can’t take this night. She’s had enough suddenly, like everything around her is too much and too little, and she needs a moment to herself.

Tifa tells Cloud something about going to the bathroom and slips out of her seat. If he replies, it gets lost to the cacophony, but she wasn’t listening for one, anyway. It’s only as she makes her way through the crowd, sticking to the edges of the room as best as she can, that Tifa realizes she doesn’t know where she’s going—she only knows she wants to go back home. And it’s hard to tell what home means in this moment—home has always been Cloud and Nibelheim, only now it’s Cloud and a cold apartment in a city that swallows her whole. So she focuses on the constant, on Cloud, but right now, it’s not enough to ground her, not without his presence at her side. She doesn’t want to pull him away from his friends, though—she has a hard time acting upon selfish impulses, and for a second, she thinks maybe she would be happier if she did.

Instead, Tifa walks out of the bar. The heat and the noise had fogged up her mind, and the chilly fall air clears her head a little. It’s still loud out here, people talking and smoking on the sidewalk, but still, Tifa feels the vice around her throat lessen. She leans against the brick wall, a few meters away from the entrance, closer to the tattoo parlor next door. That’s how she stays for a minute or two, watching the people walking by and the cars passing through the street. There’s the nagging feeling that she should go back before Cloud worries, but it wars with dread at the idea of plunging back into that crowd.

But Cloud decides for her. When he shows up at her side, Tifa can’t say she’s startled—she glances up at him, and her expression must reveal something she can’t verbalize because he frowns.

“I’m not feeling well,” she says before he can ask. “I think I should head back.”

“Alright, let me tell the others we’re leaving.” Cloud makes to turn around, but she grabs his sleeve. “What is it?”

“You don’t have to come back with me.”

As soon as the words leave her, Tifa knows she made a mistake. Cloud’s frown deepens, and he unlatches her grip on him, squeezing her hand before letting go.

“Now I’m leaving for sure,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Just give me a minute, then we can go.”

Any additional protests die off as he walks back into the bar. Tifa bites her lip, a strange kind of guilt she’s become familiar with surging at once; the last thing she wants is to drag Cloud away from his life here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to see his life as _their_ life. And that’s all she’s known since she was a child and they watched the stars in her backyard for the first time.

Tifa pulls her stare away from the bar’s entrance, the anticipation of Cloud’s return causing her heart to throb; her eyes meet a girl’s standing in a group nearby. She moves away from her friends and towards Tifa, who does her best not to appear too cautious. The girl smiles, but there’s something about the way it sits frozen on her face that makes Tifa wary.

“Can I help you?”

Her guarded tone doesn’t deter the girl. “Sorry, I just have a quick question.” At Tifa’s silence, her smile dims. “The guy you were speaking with—he’s in one of my classes. Do you know if he has a girlfriend?”

Tifa can’t hide her shock in time; her mouth drops open a little, and she’s certain her eyes widen. It feels surreal and ridiculous at once that someone would ask _her_ this question, but any and all justifications tie up her tongue, and she ends up unable to say anything. She only stares and blinks at the girl, whose gaze lights up with understanding.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Are you his girlfriend?”

Again, the words stumble back into her throat and into her stomach, weighing it down and twisting her insides. To her horror, Tifa realizes she has no answer to the question—not really.

“I’m—” Her heartbeat overtakes all other sounds for a second, and she drowns in its loudness and its oppressiveness. “I’m his soulmate." Because what else is there to say?

But the girl blinks as if what Tifa revealed is nothing of importance and replies, “Okay, but are you his girlfriend?”

The pressure in Tifa’s chest is unexpected, unbearable, and she chokes under the stranger’s stare.

“We’re good to—hey, what’s wrong?”

Cloud’s voice doesn’t lessen the pressure—it makes panic rise instead. Tifa schools her expression, aware she does a poor job, but all that matters is that she gets away from this bar and this night.

“I’m okay,” she lies. “Let’s go back.”

It’s easy to tell he does not believe her, yet Cloud doesn’t argue, as if knowing the best thing to do is to leave. Tifa doesn't glance at the girl still standing close as she walks away, Cloud following not far behind. As the distance between them and the bar grows, the weight on Tifa’s chest fades, but the poison it brought with it spread through her already, and now she keeps wondering, doubting, overthinking—she hates that she couldn’t answer such a simple question. And now she thinks of what she should have answered and which answer would be the true one.

Cloud peeks at her once in a while, worry etched in his features; she knows he can sense her mood, and yet she can’t find the strength to explain, not right now. He needs reassurance, but so does she; she comes closer, gripping his hand too tightly and wrapping her other around his wrist, her fingers brushing the skin where his mark is.

“What happened?” His voice is low enough to be a whisper in the racket of the city.

Tifa shakes her head, the words once again paralyzing her. This feels like a conversation to have alone and not surrounded by millions of strangers and the unfamiliarity of Midgar. “I’m okay,” she lies again.

She sees his frown and senses the sudden tension in his body—but Cloud doesn’t insist, as if understanding why she doesn’t want to talk at the moment.

The walk to the apartment feels like an eternity, and when they get there, Tifa breathes a little easier. The pressure is still there, squeezing her heart, but only faintly. It’s nothing she can’t withstand, the pain trivial compared to the ache she can feel when apart from Cloud.

They both stay quiet, and while she knows he’s waiting for her to speak first, the idea is still a little too terrifying, so Tifa hides in the bathroom to get ready for bed. The lengthy process of brushing her hair brings her some calm through the repeated motions. Now that they are at their place, it seems so ridiculous to bring up what's bothering her; she feels silly for even letting it get to her. But despite her best attempt at reasoning, the girl’s question plays on repeat through her mind.

Cloud waits for her in the bedroom; he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at her expectantly. For a second, Tifa wants to run away, wants to burrow under the covers and tune out whatever it is her world has become. But instead, she walks to her dresser to get out her nightclothes.

“What happened?” he asks gently. “Was it that girl speaking with you?”

Tifa pulls out one of his t-shirts, deciding this will do. She keeps silent as she changes; she leaves her clothes for the day in a heap on the floor, something she never does, and though it’s another sign she’s upset, she’s past caring about that. Cloud can already tell something affected her.

“I have a—weird question for you,” she says as she turns around to face him. Tifa leans against the dresser, gripping the edge with both hands, hoping it will ground her.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward.

“Am I…” She stops the words from tumbling out, swallows them down, then finds another way to string them together. “That girl asked if I was your girlfriend.” Tifa notes his confusion and surprise even if he tries to hide them. “I didn’t know what to answer.”

Cloud rubs his cheek, then runs his hand through his hair. “I see.”

She holds her breath, waiting and waiting until she can’t take it anymore. “What do you think?”

“Actually…” He sighs; a smile lifts the corner of his lips, and the sight dissipates some of her tension. “I was asked the same a while back. Aerith wondered if you were my girlfriend.”

“What did you say?” Her voice is meek, and she hates sounding so small.

Cloud shrugs. “That you’re my soulmate. You?”

Relief slams into her, knocking the breath out of her. “Me too,” she says once she can speak again. “But it made me think—”

“Hey, stop.” Cloud stands and walks to her; the distance between them is easily bridged. “Remember, it means what we want it to mean.”

“It took me by surprise,” she admits, eyes straying away from his. “I just…never thought of it like that.”

“You don’t have to, I promise.” He tucks strands of hair away and behind her ears. “Just focus on you and me.”

“Of course,” she says, holding onto his left wrist. Her fingers circle it, her thumb finding its spot over his pulse.

It’s only once she’s in bed and about to sleep that she realizes she lied—she doesn’t see how she can do that in a place where she drowns in her own insignificance, surrounded by so much strangeness.

—

In the weeks following her arrival in Midgar, Tifa got to know Cloud’s friends. The ones who came around the most are Zack and Aerith—but sometimes Vincent, Reno, and Rude tagged along, too. She’d been both worried and excited, then—what if it didn’t go well, what if they didn’t like her, what if she didn’t like them, what if, what if—

Luckily, they all liked each other well enough. And at first, Tifa had figured that was enough. But as time passed and weeks turned into months, she understood just liking each other might not be enough.

It started with unplanned visits, then unforeseen nights out. And Tifa also realized those visits and nights out _were_ planned—just not with her. Maybe she should have said something at that time, but she had stayed quiet because it had felt so childish to bring her jealousy up. But by now, the jealousy has morphed and crooked; it has hints of resentment and frustration now. These are emotions she hates but can’t get rid of; they grip her, claws dug in deep, and won’t let go.

Cloud notices. It’d be stupid of her to assume she could hide everything from him, not after all those years. But he doesn’t bring it up much. Tifa knows this is a consequence of the previous year, of when he felt guilty for living his own life. And maybe, just maybe, it amplifies her own fears—because isn’t that guilt the proof that she can’t keep up with him? It’s another one of those thoughts she labels as unfair; she tries to bury it, but it crawls its way out of the dirt every so often, coming back to haunt her.

Tifa did what she could to make her own friends. She’s had friends other than Cloud before, back in Nibelheim, and she’s aware she can’t let her life revolve around him alone. So, she meets people—Barret and Jessie and Biggs and Wedge at first, then Yuffie who bumped into her and spilled her latte all over her shoes. It starts to feel like an actual life, something of her own she can develop here in Midgar. And yet—

The truth, she realizes, is that the life she knew—the one she held on for so long—slips through her fingers. And it’s scary, so scary. The Before looms over her, hovering behind her shoulder in a perpetual reminder of what was and what could be. Tifa tries not to let it influence her decisions, her judgment, and on good days, she manages. But the bad days multiply as time goes on, and soon she yearns for something that feels unreachable now.

Though she doesn’t want to tell Cloud, part of her regrets coming to Midgar.

It gets worse after that night at the bar. The girl’s question sowed doubts that took root deep, deep inside. What’s worse about these doubts is the lack of control over them. She doesn’t doubt Cloud or herself—rather, she doubts the world around her. What she knew collapses like a house of cards, and it becomes impossible to rebuild it; she runs into missteps after missteps, and the cards never hold long enough for her to finally feel at ease.

The fight with Cloud happens on a quiet December night. He sits on the couch and watches a sports game with little interest. For Tifa, today was one of the bad days; she comes home late after a long shift at work where customers yelled at her for everything and nothing. Tears prickled her eyes all day but never fell, and she needs some measure of comfort. When she sits on the couch and leans against him so he can wrap his arms around her, Tifa closes her eyes, chasing the tears away.

“Rough day?”

Tifa nods, her nose brushing against the skin exposed by his shirt’s collar. “People here are horrible.”

“Just here?” She feels the way his chest moves with his soft laughter.

His comment strikes something within her, something she repressed for months. She swallows the comment threatening to surface, aware it won’t do any good. Instead, she says, “Some people don’t know what respect is.”

He plays with strands of her hair, a mindless, casual gesture. “What happened?”

The thought of telling him the many ways people shopping for Christmas can be rude and horrible isn’t appealing, so Tifa just says, “It was just a bad day.” She wonders if she this where she constantly goes wrong, then—by not admitting to what she feels in the moment, bottling those emotions up and locking them away instead. But there would be too much to unearth if she started doing that, so she hides the key to her true feelings for tonight.

Cloud is silent for a minute or two, and she assumes he resumed watching the game until he speaks up again. “You’ve been having a lot of bad days recently.”

It’s not an accusation, and Tifa knows that—but there is still a sting at the statement, and she senses her defenses rise in answer.

“Why do you think that?” she says, keeping her voice soft.

“C’mon, Tifa.” Cloud cradles her face to lift it, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I know you well enough. So, am I right?”

The tears that had been present all day resurface, though she keeps them from spilling. “It hasn’t been great,” she confesses in a whisper.

There’s a flash of hurt in Cloud’s eyes, something she didn’t want to see. His next words confirm her fear. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There are so many answers to his question that Tifa can’t settle on one—they all seem too hurtful, too self-justifying, too silly. She settles on, “I’m feeling a little lost.”

“Lost? How?” The note of disbelief in his voice pierces through her.

“I’m—”

A chime interrupts her, drawing her gaze to his phone laying on the coffee table; it lit up with a new message. She can’t see who the sender is, but she supposes it’s one of his friends. Her pause is long enough for Cloud to connect the dots. He releases his hold on her, and she sits back, like the loss of contact burned her. They stare at each other, the noise of the TV filling the space. And Tifa isn’t sure why the tension that had been building within her breaks in that instant, but the admissions tumble out in a torrent, sweeping her along and away from the shore.

“I feel left out,” she says, ignoring how Cloud flinches. “I feel left behind. I feel like I shouldn’t be here sometimes, even if I want to be. I try to make a place for myself, but I don’t know how to do that without you. And I _can’t_ keep up with the life you made here, so I’m lost.” She halts, her actions registering too late—she gave life to his fears by voicing her feelings, and by the way his feature shutters, she knows it’s too late to take any of it back.

“And you’ve been feeling that for—months?” Cloud doesn’t wait for her reply. “Why didn’t you _talk_ to me?” A trace of anger weaves through his words, igniting her own.

“Because I knew it would hurt you,” she bites out.

His mouth drops open a little, a telltale sign of his shock. “You should still have told me!”

“Tell you _what_? That I regret coming here?” The truth spills out of her unbidden, her words a stain she’ll never be able to rub out.

Cloud freezes for a moment before getting to his feet; she can’t move from where she is on the couch, even when his breathing gets a little heavier, a manifestation of his building anxiety.

“I thought you wanted to be here with me.”

Tifa thinks the quiet of his voice is like the calm before the storm, one she can’t stop anymore. “I _did_!” It’s a plea for him to understand. “I wanted to be here with you. I _want_ to be with you.”

Inside her chest, something snaps; it burns and burns, spreading through her and charring her soul. Across of her, Cloud grips his shirt over his heart, and she knows the same is happening to him—and she realizes what they feel is the soulmate bond.

“You are with me,” Cloud says, his voice breaking on the last word.

“I know! I _know_.” Tifa hides her face behind her hands, the tears at last falling. She wipes them away. “But nothing here feels _right_.”

His loud breathing mixes in with the noise of the TV. “What does that mean?”

“I want the life we had back,” she says, giving up on stopping the tears. “I want it to be you and me again, like it used to be.” She laughs at his silence, the sound punctuated with a soft sob. “I know that’s selfish. I know that’s not possible—we’re not kids anymore. But I still want that. I don’t know how to live any other way.” The pain in her chest flares up again, and she bites her lip at the sensation. “I feel alone and lost and like everything I’ve ever known has turned upside down.”

Cloud lets go of his shirt, but the strain in his voice tells her the pain is still there. “We’re not in Nibelheim anymore, but we’re still _us_.”

He holds her stare, expectant, and Tifa’s heart breaks. “Not for me,” she whispers. “Not like this.”

His answering stillness chokes the breath out of her—but it’s when he moves, heading for entrance, that she gasps for air, feeling like she’s drowning in the surrounding noise—that goddamn TV, the cacophony of the city, the door slamming behind Cloud.

Tifa doesn’t know how long she sits there, just trying to breathe in and out, in and out. The pain spreads, overtaking everything, and she falls down on her side, hiding her face in the cushion. That’s how she passes out, alone and curled in on herself, trying to run away from the ache her heart wants to set free.

In the morning, when she wakes, she’s still alone.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Remember that angst tag?" - Karmi, 2020.


	6. part six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wrap up the story this chapter, but then a certain someone _cough_ Karmi _cough_ motivated me to continue in another direction.

—

—

**Maybe we're from the same star**

—

_part six_

—

Cloud isn’t sure how he got to Zack’s place. Even now, as the sunlight drifts in through the curtains of Zack’s living room, he doesn’t remember. Cloud shifts on the couch; he gave up on being comfortable hours ago—the acute ache in his chest makes it impossible, anyway.

“Did you even sleep?”

It’s tempting to ignore Zack’s question—so tempting, because then maybe Cloud won’t have to explain what happened. Maybe Tifa and him just had a disagreement, and he left for the night so things would calm down. He wishes he could say that, but the thought of the lie alone makes his lungs constrict tighter to a point where he wonders how he can breathe still. Cloud sits up instead—there’s something heartbreaking about downplaying the reality of what happened last night.

“No,” he says in a rasp. “Not really.”

Zack flops down on the armchair, his clear gaze focused on Cloud as if to root out any growing lies. It almost makes Cloud laugh—the truth is the real poison festering inside him.

“What happened?”

Cloud presses the palm of his hands against his eyes, hoping to ease the pressure of unshed tears that’s been plaguing him for hours now. The idea of verbalizing last night grips him, and an invisible hand twists teasingly in a reminder it can wrench his heart out of his chest at any moment.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says after a beat.

Zack lets the silence build for a moment, and Cloud tenses when he finally speaks. “Does Tifa know you’re here at least?”

The question makes Cloud flinch; he can’t hide the reaction from his friend, who shakes his head.

“I didn’t grab my phone.” Cloud is aware it’s a feeble excuse.

“You know I have her number.”

He pulls his hands away from his face but avoids Zack’s eyes. “You’re right.”

His admission doesn’t seem to surprise Zack. “Never too late.” Zack fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Here you go.”

Cloud barely glances at the outstretched hand. “No, I should head back.”

“Up to you, man. But don’t leave her hanging. You know she’ll be worried.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I know.”

He doesn’t linger, disregarding Zack’s order to eat something first. Once he stands outside in the cold of early December, Cloud feels nausea rise; the thought of returning and not knowing what he’ll find scares him beyond measure. He knows Tifa will be there—during the night, as he stared at the ceiling, he realized she had nowhere to go in Midgar, not really. At that, the guilt had been overwhelming; in the end, everything he hadn’t wanted to happen had come to pass, and she’d been left alone. But once that wave of self-reproach had passed, he’d imagined walking through the door of the apartment. Imagined finding Tifa still on the couch, her hair a tangled mess, her face blotchy from crying—Tifa, immobile and silent in her own culpability at having hurt him with her silence, in her spiral of downward emotions that consumed her last night. He’s scared this is what he’ll see—because then the fracture in his heart will expand, and he won’t know where to go from there.

It’s hard to explain to Tifa, this feeling of helplessness he felt in his time away from her. Like he’d been thrown in the ocean with nothing to hold on to except a promise of finding the shore one day. He’d done what he could in that time to create a life for himself—otherwise he would have drowned in the distance separating him from his soulmate. And it’s even harder to explain that he can’t get rid of that life he found; he doesn’t want to let go of the raft he built to stay afloat for that year. Even so, there’s something definitely painful about the world not being just Tifa and him anymore. Part of his soul longs for that universe they had together, that world filled with stars and promises in the dead of the night—he doesn’t want it to become a bittersweet dream or a childish memory.

By the time he’s made it to their apartment, the nausea has ebbed a little, but it still takes him a minute to insert the keys into the lock and walk in. Cloud closes the door behind him; he removes his jacket and his boots before taking a deep breath and entering the living room.

The pain in his chest returns with a vengeance the second he spots Tifa on the couch—but it’s not the exact image he’d conjured. Her hair is damp from a shower, her clothes are different; she stares at the window without moving, though, not even glancing up when he pads closer. For a second, Cloud hesitates—fear at what will happen next comes back in an anxiety-inducing wave, but he beats it down and sits on the other end of the couch.

“I’m sorry for running out,” he says quietly. He finds he can’t look at her either and instead keeps his eyes on the window as well.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” she says, voice just as quiet.

Their apologies float in the air in between them, making it overflow with regret and sadness. It becomes hard to breathe, the weight of what remains unsaid pushing down on him, compressing his lungs, and he’s drowning again. His harsh breathing must alert Tifa because he hears the rustling of clothes, senses his body shift to the side as she sits next to him, feels her hands on his arm and back.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Tifa says it over and over, a barely there whisper that amalgamates into white noise.

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” Cloud isn’t sure how he speaks through the gasping inhales and shaky exhales.

She shushes him, her hands rubbing soothing circles; warmth seeps through his skin where she touches him, and it almost feels like a lullaby to his panic. Cloud focuses on that warmth, letting it spread through him little by little until he feels mended enough to keep on talking. He moves out of her grasp and twists to look at her. She masks her hurt at his distance so well, he almost can’t tell it’s there; the way her nails dig into her palm gives her away, though.

Despite not sleeping and thinking all night, Cloud still doesn’t know what the right thing to do is. But the one thing he knows is that they can only move forward.

“Do you want to stay here?” he asks.

Tifa frowns at his question, another one of those little signs. There is ample wariness in her voice as she answers, “In the apartment?”

“No.” Cloud takes a deep breath. “In Midgar.”

“What are you getting at?” She slides back on the couch, putting more distance between them.

“I want you to be happy.” He holds in the urge to reach out when he sees the panic flare in her eyes. “I’m trying to—”

“I’m not leaving,” Tifa says in a whisper. The softness of her voice hits him harder than if she had yelled. “I won’t be happy by leaving.”

“Tifa…”

She stays silent, and he sighs, messing up in hair to release some of the building tension in his body.

“This is familiar.” His head snaps in her direction, the bitterness weaved through her words startling him. “Back when we were younger, you did this.”

“Did what?”

“Decided something that affects us both because you thought you were doing the right thing. You pushed me away, remember?” She turns his way, and he thought there would be anger in her gaze, but he only notes sadness.

Cloud gulps down the sudden burst of guilt. “I remember.”

“Don’t do it again. It didn’t do any good last time, and it won’t do any now.”

“Then what should I do, Tifa?” He hates the frustration that finds a way out of him. Her lack of answer makes him blow out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” Cloud trails off as he feels the pressure behind his eyes again, and he falls back into the couch, looking at the ceiling and counting to ten in the hopes it’ll go away. He can only go on once he’s reached sixteen. “The truth is, I want it to be you and me again,” he confesses, voice low. “I want to go back to our field and look at the stars with you again. But…” He moves slightly to stare at her. “That’s not possible anymore, Tifa. Things can’t be what they used to.”

She blinks, the movement slow, and he guesses she must hold back tears—he’s doing the same, after all. “I know,” she breathes out. “That’s why it hurts so much.”

“But we can have something else." Cloud sits straight, leaning into her space a little; she doesn’t move back, and the small victory fuels him. “Remember how we said we’d find out together what soulmates are?” He waits for her to acknowledge his word with a nod before carrying on. “We’re still figuring it out. We always will be because things can’t stay the same forever.”

“I’m afraid,” Tifa says in a hush.

“Of what? Of things changing?”

“No, not exactly.” Her eyes stray away. “Things can change as long as we’re still _us_. And I’m just so scared we won’t be, Cloud. Look at us now.”

“Hey, listen to me.” Cloud slides a hand through her hair to cradle the back of her head, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Don’t let this define us. We are so much more than this last year. I know you’re scared. So am I, Tifa.”

Cloud thinks about the start of their intertwined lives sometimes—that they got to know each other so young, that they were marked so early. Most days, he thinks it’s a blessing to have grown up with Tifa and to have come to love her in a way he can’t even express. But there are times where the thought it might be a curse crosses his mind. He hates those days so so much, because there’s nothing cursed about knowing and loving Tifa—only maybe the fear of losing her in so many unspoken ways. The fear of crashing down from the biggest high and discovering that what he lived was never meant to last. And there’s something so much worse about a quiet loss, one he could have prevented with words and actions. It’s what claws at him now; it shreds his soul with such violence that he wonders if he’ll be able to stitch it back together.

When Tifa wraps her hand around his wrist and presses her thumb over his mark, against his pulse, his breath catches in his throat. The magnitude of what he feels seems surreal suddenly; the relief, the fear, the love, the panic—they pulse through his heart with enough strength to make him think it will burst.

He wants to say they’ll be okay, that tomorrow they’ll wake up and everything will be as it was. But he also doesn’t want to live with sweet lies and broken promises. So instead, he says nothing—he just kisses her; it’s nothing more than a soft brush of his lips against hers, then a lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth. Tifa’s hand comes up to grip the front of his shirt; the way she holds on is tight, almost desperate, and it tugs at something deep within him. She hides her face in his neck, letting go of his wrist; Cloud senses the tears drip on the skin exposed by his shirt, but he stays quiet about it. He holds her close, moving so they lie down on the couch.

The warmth of her body against his calms the hurt in his chest that never let go. There’s something terribly reassuring about the peace he feels. Tifa’s tears stop, but she doesn’t pull away. She moves around, settling to be more comfortable.

When she whispers _I’m sorry_ , Cloud pretends not to hear it.

—

The day they go back to Nibelheim for Christmas break, Cloud wakes up with a pressure in his chest. It’s not pain, not exactly, and as they hurry to the airport and board the plane, it eases. But something else comes along, a kind of foreboding feeling that makes him nauseous. He sits next to the window, and Tifa leans her head on his shoulder to get more sleep. Cloud stares at the world becoming smaller as they take off, doing his best to hold in his anxiety.

It’s the thought of returning to Nibelheim that makes him nervous, and he knows it. The fight Tifa and him had was two weeks ago; they can still find the aftermath in the little things. It feels like he keeps finding pieces of broken glass everywhere, the way one does by accident—cutting your finger on a sharp edge or stepping on a jagged shard. Tifa’s eyes straying away when his friends text, the sudden tension of her body when he says goodbye for the day, the desperate way she holds on to him in the morning—he picks up all these pieces one by one until he’s got enough of them to rebuild what was broken. It hurts him to see that the pain they caused each other was never truly gone, only shattered and hidden away in the deepest part of their souls. And it hurts even more to dig to such a profound depth within himself to discover those concealed fragments—sometimes Cloud prefers to act like nothing is wrong because he’s grown tired of cuts and bruises.

He never thought he’d be so apprehensive to go back home. Luckily, as they get closer to Nibelheim, Cloud relaxes, the dread at untold possibilities fading away. By the time they land and exit the airport, his breathing regulated itself, and his smile is genuine as he spots his mother standing in the crowd.

Claudia hugs him first, her arms tightening around his shoulders to the point of pain before she lets go and turns to Tifa.

“Welcome back, you two. How was the flight?”

“It was fine.” Cloud shrugs, following his mom as she leads them outside. “Tifa slept through most of it.”

“I was tired,” Tifa says. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, the gesture almost shy.

Claudia takes out the keys to the car. “Rough end of the semester?”

Cloud doesn’t hear Tifa’s reply as he drops their bags in the trunk—he doesn’t really want to hear it, anyway. He’s aware her fatigue has little to do with school and more to do with their lives in Midgar. Tifa won’t admit to his mother, or even to him, and to see her lie about it sends nauseous shock-waves through his body.

They chat on the drive to Nibelheim, though Tifa stays mostly quiet. At first he thinks it’s out of consideration for his reunion with his mother, but as her silence stretches out, he realizes that can’t be all it is. Claudia doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she keeps it to herself, and Cloud is glad for that. He glances at Tifa through the rearview mirror, hoping her eyes will meet his, but he finds her staring out of the window. It’s the longing in her expression that hits him the hardest, and he tears his gaze away, ignoring the questioning look his mother sends him.

Brian Lockhart’s car isn’t in the driveway when they arrive. Claudia asks Tifa if she wants to stay with them in the meantime, but she shakes her head as she grabs her bag. With a smile and a parting _thank you_ , Tifa heads into her house. Cloud lingers outside even after his mom has gone inside, debating whether he should go after Tifa. But something about the quietness she’d shown through the car drive warns him to stay away for now. He walks into his house with one last look over his shoulder.

Claudia waits for him in the entrance, arms crossed over her chest.

“What’s with Tifa? Did something happen?”

“Yes and no.” Cloud keeps his head down as he removes his boots so his mother can’t read the lie on his face. “She’s not adapting too well to Midgar.” At his mother’s lack of reply, he turns around with a sigh. Cloud reins in the surprise at the sadness in Claudia’s gaze. “I’m just hoping spending some time here will help her,” he adds as he passes her by to go into the kitchen. “She misses her Dad a lot.”

Footsteps indicate she followed him. “Brian hasn’t been too well, to be honest. He acts like he’s fine, but he’s having a tough time with his leg.”

“That’s just gonna make her feel worse,” Cloud mumbles. He sits at the table and buries his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Claudia pulls out the chair across him. “Why don’t you explain what’s happening to me?”

He does, skipping details he deems pointless for her understanding—the nagging thought that maybe they aren’t so pointless flashes repeatedly through his mind, but he ignores it. While he wants his mother’s advice and opinion, he doesn’t also doesn’t want to share every aspect of his private life with her.

“We both try hard,” he whispers once he’s done, “but she’s unhappy there.”

“It hurts, right?” Claudia says, gentle and quiet. “Because she’s your soulmate.”

Cloud looks at his mom, then—really looks at her. Memories hidden deep within him, remnants of his childhood he pushed away, rise to remind him of something. Hissed words in the dead of night to someone on the phone, him spying through the half-opened door— _He won’t go through what I did_. Though it’s tempting, he doesn’t ask her about what must have happened with her soulmate; she’s never said anything about it, and to him that means she doesn’t want to. And he understands that—that desire to keep this connection to yourself, that need to protect precious moments and beloved memories.

He nods once, twice. “It hurts because it’s Tifa.” His mother frowns, a question etched in her features, like she doesn’t understand the distinction. Cloud wonders if anyone else does. “She’s so much more than my soulmate, Mom. Tifa’s all I’ve ever known.” In so many ways, he thinks, in all the ways that matter—Tifa’s always been at the center of everything.

His mother doesn’t comment on this, and Cloud switches the topic quickly, not wanting to carry on this conversation. He holds in the sigh of relief when she catches on.

That night, in his room, he looks out of the window and at Tifa’s, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. But the room stays dark all night long.

—

Christmas comes and goes until they only have one night left in Nibelheim. And being in their hometown, surrounded by familiarity and loved ones, Cloud understands why Tifa longs for this—so does he, really, but there’s something about coming back that makes the yearning stronger.

It’s dark out when Tifa rings the doorbell. Cloud opens the door to find her bundled up for the cold weather. When he moves so she can come in, she doesn’t budge.

“We haven’t been to our field yet,” she says. She shoves her hands in her pockets and turns, signaling he should follow her. “Wanna walk there?”

Cloud nods and gets dressed. Soon, they’re on the path to the field; the snow falls slowly, landing in their hair and over their clothes. He doesn’t brush it away, enjoying the bite of the cold and the soft brush of snow against his cheek. Once they get to the field, he’s glad to see barely any snow covers the ground, making it easier for them to walk to their favorite tree. Tifa lays down the blankets they always brought with them, and they sit.

“I didn’t remember the sky correctly,” Cloud says, his voice soft with remembrance. “The stars are so much brighter here.”

“It’s so beautiful. I never thought I could forget, but… I guess I did a little.”

He looks down to take her in facing him; in his chest, his heart squeezes at the sight of her dark hair speckled with snowflakes, of her darkened silhouette embraced by the night sky and the mountains. Cloud feels it, then, this same foreboding sentiment that choked the air out of him before.

“What are we doing here, Tifa?” he asks, low and cautious.

Tifa runs a hand over the ground, just beyond the edge of the blanket, heedless of the cold. Her gaze stays on his as she whispers, “I’m not going back to Midgar.”

Cloud feels strange as her words settle over him, as if a veil fell down between them, and the world on the other side is hazy, distorted, unreachable. His own voice echoes in his ears, sounding far away.

“What do you mean?”

“I talked to my Dad.” Her gaze breaks away from his to focus on her hands twisting in her lap. “We both think it might be for the best.”

“But you…” Cloud blinks to make sure he’s not dreaming this—but the chilly wind and the freezing water of melting snowflakes down his neck let him know this is very real. “Before you said you wouldn’t be happy by leaving.”

“I know I said that. I believed it when I said it.” A pleading note enters her voice. “But now—I think… I think I need to be on by own for a while.” His stunned silence has her stumble over her words, like she’s rushing to say everything before it’s too late. “Nothing’s going to change if we go back together, Cloud. At least this way I can—”

“You can what?” The question bursts out of him unbidden, cutting her off. “I thought we would get through this together. Isn’t that what we both wanted?”

Tifa closes her eyes a moment too long for it to be a blink; a few tears still escape, but she wipes them away. “You know I want to be with you. But it’s not working like this.”

“So your solution is—” Cloud rubs his hands over his eyes. “You’re giving up, Tifa.”

“No, I’m not!” Her voice rises in volume, not quite a shout but a hint she’s barely holding on. “I need some distance. From that place and from school. I’m not doing okay.”

He gulps down the sharp words threatening to come out, aware they would be said in anger—but he also knows that anger won’t disappear so easily. “You need distance from me?” he asks in a breath, the low sound almost lost to the wind. “For how long?”

She says nothing—the faint sound of her crying resounds in the field. Cloud stares through the veil, feeling dazed; he thinks he’s going to be sick from the weight pressing down on him, on his chest, over his heart.

“I’m sorry,” Tifa says at last. Her words weave through her tears in a broken cadence.

It takes him a while to say anything in return. When he does, his voice is hoarse as if from disuse. “You had to bring me here to break my heart?”

Tifa reaches out but pulls her hand make as if thinking better of it—and he’s glad she did. “No, that’s not—don’t say that,” she says in a whisper.

“Say what? The truth?” This time, it’s his turn to raise his voice; he feels himself slip and spiral out of control. Ahead, the stars shine too brightly, blinding him, and it’s too much, too much, too—

“I can’t stay here,” he rasps out as he gets to his feet. Cloud clutches his head; it does nothing to alleviate the sudden pulse behind his eyes, but the pain makes it easier for him to regain his composure, giving him something to focus on. “We’re going back.”

Tifa stands up, her breathing arduous like she’s in pain—but he doesn’t like to think this hurts as much for her as it does for him. Not when she’s the one who chose this. He picks up the blanket without another word.

“Cloud, please—”

He hates himself for looking at her at the moment. The darkness of her disheveled hair, still spotted with snow; the flush of her cheeks from the cold; the deep red of her eyes, gleaming from unshed tears—and then the tall tree behind her; this field that was a sanctuary; the endless river of stars that shine down on them, almost mocking him and the mark on his wrist that’ll never fade. It hurts to gaze upon the person he’s loved for so long standing in the place they called theirs—and to have the world fall down like a curtain to a stage, revealing a reality he wants no part of.

Cloud tears his eyes away and twists on his feet, heading for the street. Tifa follows; he knows she does, even if she keeps a few meters behind. The closer they get to their houses, the harder his pulse drums in his neck, to a point where it overwhelms all other sounds. When Tifa asks him to _wait, please, wait_ as he walks for his door, Cloud hears it as underwater. And he decides that, like so many other things after tonight, it can’t be real. The door falls softly behind him, but still nothing seems right.

He’s grateful his mother is sleeping as he makes his way up the stairs, not realizing he forgot to remove his boots and his jacket. It’s only once he’s hidden away, the door to his room shut behind him, that Cloud notices his drenched clothes. He removes them, the movements mechanical, and throws them on the floor. His boots follow. It’s once he stands alone in the dimness of his room that everything rushes up to him in a wave that pulls him under into shadowy depths.

Cloud slides down the door until he’s sitting, not seeing anything before him, not really. His mind replays the last hour, and it’s the last image he has of Tifa in the field that comes back over and over again. Even when his eyes close, or when tears fall and silent sobs shake his body, the image doesn’t disappear.

He wishes it did, though. In this moment, left on his own to the night, Cloud wishes for all of his memories to fragment and dissipate.

He’ll regret the thought in the morning—he knows that. But for now, for those hours before dawn, he lets the darkness drag him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please direct all concerns about this chapter to Karmi. It's her fault after all 😇


	7. part seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, friends! Has it really been since October, hahaha...? *sweats nervously*
> 
> Maybe one day I will be better at updating. Then again, maybe one day I will post before 2AM so I can take the time to edit properly. Impossible wishes and all that.
> 
> All I'm gonna say about this chapter is that there is a high capacity of Feels. Some might even say they are the Feeliest of Feels.
> 
> ...Eh, who am I kidding, I only write high level Feels. Only the best for y'all *finger guns*
> 
> My being an insufferable dork aside, let's gooooooo.

—

—

**Maybe we're from the same star**

—

_part seven_

—

The morning comes too fast for Tifa. She didn’t sleep, instead watching the night pass and morph into dawn. She feels empty and tired—heartbroken, too, but she tries not to think about that too hard. Not now.

Noise downstairs lets her know her father is up, and the realization breaks through her haze a little. Part of her doesn’t want to leave her room; there’s a certain safety to it, but beyond that, she wants to stay because everything reminds her of Cloud. In a way, she craves the hurt her memories give her—she’s the one who made the choice for both of them, after all.

Tifa knows she can’t sit on her bed and gaze through the window all day—as tempting as it seems. Because if she stays hidden in here, wallowing in a heartache of her own making, then nothing else has to exist; the world doesn’t have to turn and the sun doesn’t have to set and rise forever—everything can just disappear, and then maybe her memories will vanish, too. Truth and lies have no place in this darkened room so long as the door stays shut; all that remains is a mangled mass of emotions where everything feels wrong and nothing feels right.

The gauzy white curtain of her window allows her to spy on the outside world with a distorted sight. The flash of movement catches her attention, and though she knows she shouldn’t, Tifa lifts her head, seeking Cloud at his own window. He stares right back for a few seconds; it’s too far for her to make out his expression, but the sharp edge to his movements as he turns his head aside and walks away speaks loudly enough.

Her father’s voice is faint as he calls out to her from downstairs. It’s what makes Tifa move more than anything else, prompting her to grab a change of clothes and head into the bathroom. The warm spray of the shower does little to clear her mind, and Tifa goes through her routine. It’s only once she’s changed and made her way down to the kitchen that she realizes what time it is—the red numbers displayed above the stove are hard to miss. Her heart skips a beat. It’s not that she had forgotten about the flight back to Midgar, not really—but in the darkness of her room, time had lost its meaning.

“Tifa?” Her father sounds unsure, wary. “Are you going to eat?”

She wants to say yes, but that would be a lie; nausea replaced her appetite, and the simple thought of eating repulses for now. On the stove display, the time keeps on mocking her. “No,” she says at last. “I have to…”

Tifa can’t even discern what she wants to say— _I have to catch a flight_ is as much of a lie as _I have to stay behind_. She doesn’t _have_ to do any of these things; they are choices to make, and this is what rips her heart out, Tifa thinks—that feeling of being responsible for the consequences she’s drowning in. It’s always easier to blame someone else, to find a target for the anger left in the wake of a fate decided by others. But Tifa has no one to hold responsible for what happens next—no one but herself. There were several paths to take, and she picked the one where she couldn’t hold on to Cloud’s hand anymore.

“I have to—” The words stick in the back of her throat, viscous and vicious, and for a second, Tifa thinks she will choke on them. “I have to say goodbye,” she says, her voice little more than a rasp.

Her father’s voice registers as she heads for the front door, but the words get lost. She stops only to put on her boots and grab her coat out from the closet; the hanger clatters on the hardwood floor, another sound that mixes into the cacophony in Tifa’s mind. Only the pulse of her heart rises above the noise, its throb painful and powerful; it amplifies as she crosses the front yard towards Cloud’s house. She’s still slipping on her coat when she gets to the driveway.

It’s Claudia who sees her first—or rather, Claudia is the first to react. Deep inside her, Tifa knows Cloud noticed her; she would be ready to bet he’d expected her to show up. But now there’s no humor or delight to be found in the strength of their bond; there’s only sadness and guilt and regret.

Claudia whispers something to her son before going back into the house, the gesture clearly one of courtesy. The door shuts behind her and still Cloud keeps his head down as he riffles through a bag.

The car is all that stands between them, but it’s a distance Tifa doesn’t dare to cross. Now that she is here, the words retreat, plummeting down to her stomach where they settle, heavy and muddled. It feels as if she stands on the edge of an invisible precipice. Now that she let go of Cloud, she loses her balance and stumbles over the brim in an unending descent through a sea of stars. Or maybe it’s the world that’s tilting, and they’re both falling—and maybe their real destiny is to orbit the same star, always passing each other and never colliding.

In the end, it’s Cloud who speaks first; he shuts the door with a little too much force, and the noise tightens the tension between them. It will snap any moment now, Tifa knows that—what is unknown is the damage it will leave in its wake.

“Did you need something?”

She doesn’t like how brittle his voice sounds, a reminder of a too-fresh wound. His eyes focus on everything but her, and she hates hates _hates_ it—but how can she blame him?

“I wanted to come with…” Tifa trails off as he winces. “I just…”

“You thought seeing me off at the airport would make all this okay?”

It’s her turn to flinch, but she holds it in as best as she can. “That’s not—”

“I don’t want you to come.” The stiffness of his body clashes with the soft way he speaks.

Tifa goes to protest, the urge more reflexive than anything else, but she swallows down her words at the last second. The quiet between them expands to a suffocating point, and she waits until she can’t take it anymore before walking around the car. She maintains a distance still, too aware of the fragile ground they stand on.

“Why?” Cloud whispers as she stays silent.

It’s not hard to make out the meaning of his question, but it hard for Tifa to find a proper answer, one that isn’t a mismatched amalgam of explanations that mean very little in the end. She wants to say she didn’t intend to take this decision behind his back, that she wasn’t already thinking about it before they flew to Nibelheim—but they both know she would be lying.

“I can’t go back,” is all she can say. A pleading note weaves through her words, begging him to understand.

Cloud lets out a shaky exhale; it’s like he’s trying to hold something in, like he needs to keep himself under control. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I—I didn’t know what to say.” It’s not the answer he wanted, and she knew it before the words left her.

The chill of the winter morning hits her suddenly despite her coat and the lack of wind; she wonders if her trembling is even due to the cold. Tifa doesn’t realize what she’s doing until Cloud steps back sharply, holding his left arm to his side and far from her reach—until he tugs down the sleeve of his coat to hide his soulmate mark from her.

“Don’t,” Cloud says softly.

More than anything, this is what shatters her. Her hand hangs in the space between them, another reminder of what she chose. Tifa wants to tell him so many things, from _I won’t see you for a while_ to _I love you_ and everything in between. But she can’t muster her voice, not without letting the tears fall, and she knows that once they do, everything will be too real and too hurtful.

Cloud takes a deep breath, then another. “I have to catch the plane.”

As if on cue, Claudia steps out of the house, hesitating for a moment before walking their way. Tifa stares at Cloud as she waits for him to say something, anything, but he just turns towards his mother in a silent dismissal. Claudia says nothing once she’s reached the car, but her tentative expression when she glances at Tifa is enough intrusion for her to twist on her heels.

The pain in her chest makes itself known before she’s even crossed their driveway and into her yard. She bites down on her lip to rein in her reaction; her heartbeat overpowers all other sounds, pulsing in her ears. The temptation to look back is immense; part of her wants to know if the soulmate bond is also destroying Cloud from the inside, clawing at his heart and sucking the air out of his lungs—but the possibility that it might not be affecting him is too much to stand. It’s only once she’s stepped over the threshold of her house, as the door closes behind her, that Tifa dares to turn around.

But all she sees is the car driving off.

—

The first days alone in Nibelheim are surreal, like she locked away reality once the door to her house shut, cutting off her view of Claudia’s car. In her house, in her room, Tifa can pretend things aren’t what they are—and isn’t that what she’d wanted all along, after all? To be back home in Nibelheim; to be in a place where she belongs; to be surrounded by what she’s always known. Her father is careful not to push; he knows now is not the time, and in that small part of her mind where reality gnaws at her, Tifa is glad for it.

It takes almost a week for Claudia to ring the doorbell. Tifa is in her room, and she doesn’t bother getting out of bed to go open the door—but when Claudia’s voice drifts in through the open doorway, Tifa sits up straight. Apprehension at the thought of speaking to Cloud’s mother slams in her, followed by the sharp rise and bitter taste of fear. She doesn’t dare move; it’s childish and ridiculous, but it feels like if she moves, Claudia will know where she is, and then avoiding her will be impossible.

In the end, Claudia leaves without asking for Tifa. It’s only once the door shuts and no more voices are heard for a couple of minutes that Tifa slips out of her room, padding towards the stairs; she leans over the banister to get a look at the entryway. Her Dad is nowhere to be seen. The wood creaks as she walks down; the noise reminds her of childhood summer nights and starry skies. Memories of sneaking out with Cloud leave a bittersweet aftertaste when she forces them down.

There’s no reason for her to have come downstairs, but she also finds none to return to her room. Tifa wanders into the living room, her eyes skipping the pictures displayed on the wall to her left. The sliding door ahead beckons her, and before she knows it, she’s opened it and stepped outside. The patio is cold under her sock-clad feet; snow blankets the yard and more drifts through the gray daylight. Tifa wraps her arms around herself in a futile effort to keep warm. Despite the chill, she doesn’t move from her spot; wind ruffles her hair, blowing strands in her face.

The pain within her unfurls in a slow, cruel way; it scratches at her insides, deep enough for the lacerations to burn, shallow enough for them to heal in no time—on and on it goes until the hurt is all she knows and it spills out of her in silent tears. The reality she so wanted to run from claws at her, dragging her down into the murky depths.

She can’t remember the last time she felt so alone—truly alone. In the whirlwind of Midgar, she’d drowned in loud noises and swarming crowds; she’d felt lonely, then, but there had always been a measure of comfort to be found in the never-ending liveliness of the city. But here, in Nibelheim, in her home, she has nothing but the piercing whistle of the wind and the quiet snowfall.

Nibelheim is nothing on its own—nothing but fields and mountains, stars and snow. It had only meant the world to her because Cloud had been there, too. Every inch of the town is saturated with fragments of Cloud, of her, of _them_ —from nightly escapades as children to hushed confessions as teenagers. And there is no meaning in facing it all on her own.

Tifa twists on her heels to head back inside; her body doesn’t cooperate well, her limbs stiff from the cold. Thoughts tumble one after the other as she goes back upstairs and into the bathroom; the loud flow of water as the bath fills up grants her a respite as it overwhelms her mind. But everything comes rushing back once she slips into the tub; the hot water burns as it hits her chilled skin, but Tifa slides in further until only her neck isn’t submerged.

She hates herself for not understanding any of this sooner—she’d clung to her fears and doubts desperately, letting them blind her. Part of her realizes she could have seen it before if she had wanted to—it’s what hurts the most now, that awareness of her choices and failures. It’s a hard truth to swallow, sticky and acrid in her mouth. Tifa can’t tell how long she sits in the bath; the front door opens and closes, muted voices float up to her, and the water turns cold, seeping away the warmth she tried to recover. Claudia’s faint laughter greets Tifa as she steps out in the hall and walks to her room. Something about hearing Cloud’s mother brings a mist of tears to her eyes and shreds her patience at the same time. When the door to her room falls shut behind her, dulling all noises, Tifa sighs in relief.

She changes into dry clothes before sitting on her bed, her phone in hand. The notifications let her know she got some promotional emails, all of which she deletes without a second thought. Her heart stings at the absence of messages from Cloud even if she’d expected it; if there’s one thing she’s learned with Cloud, it’s that silence can be as unkind as the harshest words. Tifa puts the phone down to wrap her arms around her knees, hoping to warm herself up even more, but after a minute or two, she walks to her closet in search of warmer clothes. It’s as she grabs an old wool sweater that her hand brushes the soft cotton of a sweatshirt. Tifa hesitates, then pulls it out of the closet.

Small white letters contrast with the black of the material, spelling out Midgar University up on the left side of the shirt. It’s too big for her, as is the case with all of Cloud’s clothes she’s claimed as hers. He’d left this one behind after his surprise visit on her birthday, something he’d said was an accident—she would have believed him if it hadn’t been for the smirk he’d been trying to hide. Tifa puts it on as she goes back to her bed; the sweatshirt engulfs her in the warmth and softness she craved.

This time, when she picks up her phone, she doesn’t let herself get discouraged so quickly. She takes a moment to figure out what to write—apologies and justifications won’t get her anywhere, not if she wants to start a conversation. And though the anticipation makes her nauseous, Tifa thinks there is only one thing she can write—the truth in all its painful glory. Hiding it from Cloud had done nothing but tear them apart, and though she knows one right won’t erase the many wrongs, she at least has to try.

[01/11 - 17:26] T: _could we talk when you have the time?_

She stares at the screen, not expecting a reply soon, or even at all—but when jumping dots indicate he’s writing back seconds later, Tifa holds her breath.

[01/11 - 17:27] C: _what is it_

[01/11 - 17:27] T: _i want to talk to you_

Seconds tick away into minutes as Tifa waits for his reply, and when she gets the notification, she scrambles for her phone.

[01/11 - 17:41] C: _a little late for that_

She reads it once, twice, but the words stay the same. It’s not as if this is a complete surprise—she knew the possibility of him refusing was very, very real. And yet, the words slice through her ribs, down to her heart.

[01/11 - 17:45] T: _please_

The message sent, Tifa lets the phone fall on the bed; though she knows he won’t answer, she at least had to try one last time. But the phone rings within minutes, startling her. Excitement rises only to crash into uneasiness when she sees Aerith’s name on the screen. Her thumb hangs over the screen as her apprehension wars with curiosity. Tifa hadn’t even thought of how Cloud’s friends would react to her absence—she hadn’t wanted to dwell on how trivial her presence had been. Her hand trembles as she accepts the call and brings the phone up to her ear.

“Tifa?”

The worry lacing Aerith’s voice shatters the tension that had gathered within Tifa; it’s reassuring and puzzling all at once—she had never thought any of them would care enough to contact her.

“Hey.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, “I’m going to strangle you when you come back!”

Tifa blinks, the burst of exasperation taking her aback as much as the words themselves. “What?”

“You had us worried sick!”

“I’m—I’m sorry? I didn’t think—”

“Clearly!” Aerith sighs when she gets no answer. “So were we not supposed to care that you never showed up?”

Embarrassment flares through Tifa; it all sounds so simple coming from Aerith—to her horror, she realizes it sounds _real_. This time when she apologizes, it’s little more than a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Noise filters then cuts off, like Aerith moved somewhere quiet. “What happened?” she asks, her voice losing its frustrated edge. “Cloud won’t say anything other than you didn’t come back with him.”

Tifa bites her lip, unsure what to say—everything she’d believed in Midgar has been crumbling throughout the day, the dust flying away to reveal another side to her stay there. And wouldn’t it be cruel of her to voice those insecurities she nurtured so secretly? As she opens her mouth to lie, Tifa hesitates—none of them can go forward with half-truths.

“I didn’t want to come back,” she says, anxiety making her voice meek.

It’s a lame explanation, but it’s also the truth, and Tifa tells herself it’s better than nothing. Aerith and her were barely friends—or so she had thought—and confessing to these things isn’t something easy for Tifa. There was only one person she relied on, and now he won’t talk to her.

Thankfully, Aerith seems to fill in the blanks on her own. “I’m guessing that wasn’t planned?”

The question is code for _Cloud didn’t know?_ —and Tifa decides there is no point in hiding anymore. “I told him the night before his flight to Midgar.”

“I see…” Aerith trails off as muffled noise flows through the call, and she waits for it to quiet before carrying on. “You texted him earlier, right? He got a little agitated, so I figured it might be you, since—well, you’re not here.”

“Yeah, I wanted to speak with him.”

Aerith hums as if contemplating something. “Wanna video chat instead?”

“Oh, I—I don’t know,” Tifa says, awkwardness coating her tongue.

“It’s not a secret plan, I promise.” A pause settles between them, and for the first time, she hears shyness in Aerith’s voice. “I just want to see how you’re doing.”

Her heart-rate accelerates, the sensation a strange one—something about it is scary. It reminds Tifa of that day she boarded the plane for Midgar; she’d been alone and heading into more unknown. There is no doubt that Aerith is genuine in her concern, in her friendliness—now that Tifa is away from Midgar, her mind no longer muddled, she hears it loud and clear. And she wonders if accepting Aerith’s request is akin to stepping on that plane—something she craves but may come to regret.

“Okay,” Tifa says too softly. She clears her throat and adds, louder this time, “Yeah, we can do that.”

Aerith wastes no time, and when her face fills the screen, Tifa oddly feels like crying. A brief silence stretches as both girls take in each other; it’s Aerith who breaks it first, letting out a slight laugh, the sound almost nervous.

“You’ve seen better days,” she says.

Later, Tifa will wonder why this was the breaking point for her—the instant she registers Aerith’s words, unbidden tears surge and fall down. She wipes them away with the sleeve of the sweatshirt, almost forgetting about the phone in her hand; more follow and she soon gives up.

“I’m sorry.” Tifa lets out an unamused chuckle. “I feel so _dumb_.”

“How come?” The soft but firm tone of Aerith’s voice is a giveaway—she already knows, one way or another.

A last spark of hesitation flutters through Tifa, but it fizzles out too fast to sow doubts within her. “I thought you didn’t care. I thought none of you did.”

Through the mist of tears, Tifa catches Aerith’s moment of uncertainty before she speaks. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, Tifa, but we thought the same. So I suppose that at one point we kind of stopped trying. I’m sorry, we should have known it would hurt you,” she rushes out as she gets no answer. “That wasn’t considerate, I know.”

“It’s okay,” Tifa says, surprising them both. A few more tears escape. “I wasn’t trying either.”

“I think we can call it a mutual failure.” A bit of noise rises, startling Aerith, who pushes away from the wall she’d be leaning against. “Tifa, wait, give me a—”

Maybe it’s because the dam has finally broken for Tifa, but the words tumble out of her despite Aerith’s warning. “I know I should have talked about it. It wasn’t fair of me to stay quiet about how I—”

The sound of a door opening pierces through her haze—so does Aerith’s sudden stillness. And Tifa knows who came into the room before he even speaks—the violent burst of pain in her chest does nothing but confirm it.

“Zack’s looking for—hey, are you okay?”

Footsteps follow as Aerith stays silent; his incoming nearness seems to snap her out of it, like she just realized he’ll see the screen if he gets close. “I’m okay!”

She moves brusquely, and the world twists and blurs before Tifa’s eyes—when it rights itself again, she finds herself staring at Cloud as he picks up the dropped phone. For a moment, as their eyes meet, she thinks he’ll let go of the phone, but he doesn’t—just like he doesn’t hand it back to Aerith. Tifa doesn’t know what to say—and neither does he, it seems. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to her; the possibility crystallizes further as she takes in how impassive his expression is.

“I’ll take that back.” The wariness in Aerith’s voice is obvious, and it only grows in the ensuing silence. “Cloud, give me my phone back.”

Tears fill up Tifa’s eyes again, the onslaught impossible to stall—still, she does what she can to hide them. That’s when it suddenly hits her that she can end the call. “It’s—it’s fine, Aerith,” she whispers. “I’ll hang up.”

She swipes the sleeve of the sweatshirt over her cheek, and the movement seems to snap Cloud’s attention; she doesn’t miss the moment he recognizes the shirt, the faint surprise etched in his features hard to dismiss.

“Wait, Tifa—”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

A hush falls over them at Cloud’s question—Tifa doesn’t react immediately, too stunned for her thoughts to sort themselves out.

“So?” The way his tone wavers between impatience and urgency makes her think part of him doesn’t want to listen to her while another begs her to say something, anything.

Though she can’t decide if it’s the right choice, Tifa nods. “Okay. I’ll be fine,” she adds for Aerith’s sake.

The conversation with Aerith both drained and soothed her, and the resulting vulnerability is bound to shatter once she talks with Cloud, but she won’t let the chance slip through her fingers.

“Hang up if needed, Tifa.” Aerith does nothing to mask the concern in her voice, and there is a comfort in hearing it.

Cloud waits for her to exit the room before sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor, his hold on the phone staying steady. The second the door shuts behind Aerith, his shoulders droop and he lets out a sigh; his head falls back, hitting the wall.

“That’s my shirt,” he says. There’s a tone to his words that sounds strangely like defeat.

“It is.” She can’t fathom how she can sound so calm while a tempest runs under her skin, ready to tear everything apart.

He sighs again, a sliver of frustration shining through. “I don’t get it.”

Something about the statement stirs up a memory within Tifa. It’s like déjà vu in its own way, and she hates how inevitable this moment feels as she echoes his own words. “It’s not because we’re fighting that I love you any less,” she says quietly. “Isn’t that what you told me?”

It’s impossible to miss Cloud’s flinch or the way his eyes flicker away from the screen—away from her. He gulps as she waits for him to speak, and when he turns back to her, she notes the sheen of his eyes—but it’s gone in a flash, like a trick of the light. The thought makes her heart pulse, the sudden blast of pain brutal but short-lived. Tifa bites her lip in an attempt to keep her composure; it frays every second she talks to Cloud, and the prospect of unraveling looms closer and closer, but it’s a bet she’s willing to take. There’s no way to say when Cloud will accept to speak with her again.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” he says at last, just as softly. “Then how did we get here?”

He doesn’t make the question sound like an accusation, but it’s difficult for Tifa not to hear it as one, despite logic telling her not to. “I’m sorry, I should have—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cloud cuts her off. “We’ll be here all night if we list everything we feel should have been different.”

Her breath hitches at his comment, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him; she sees the way he looks down in a silent acknowledgment of the hurt he caused—but he doesn’t take it back, and Tifa senses her control slipping in the wake of his silence.

“I think I should go,” she says, wavering on the last word.

“You’re the one who wanted to talk to me.” Cloud runs a hand through his hair, tension sharpening his movements.

“Yes, but right now, I—” Tifa gasps, whatever she was going to say forgotten as she notices the leather bracelets around his left wrist and covering his mark.

He frowns at her stillness. “What?” A moment passes, and then understanding gleams in his eyes as he lowers his hand, catching sight of the leather. “Can you blame me?”

For the first time since their conversation started, Tifa hears bitterness and resentment in his voice. Cloud’s words tumble deep into the hollows of her heart, a lit match to gasoline; the flames flare, and she can’t tell what is burning—it might be her or the world. She searches for her anger, only finding ashes. There’s something unbearable about this instant, something too painful to be real—but deep down, Tifa knows nothing she could conjure in her mind would hurt as much.

“Yes,” she says hoarsely, “I _can_.”

When Cloud scoffs, the sound mocking and dismissive, she knows there is no turning back. “You’re the one who—”

“It’s a choice!” Tifa doesn’t realize she’s shouted, not at first. “ _You’re_ the one choosing to hide it!”

“Because I don’t want to look at it! You _hurt_ me, Tifa,” he carries on, unaware or uncaring of her sharp intake of breath. “You hurt me in a way no one else ever could. So yeah, Tifa, right now I don’t want to look at this fucking soulmate mark.”

There are a thousand words that fight to escape from Tifa, but she can’t find the will or the strength to utter any of them. All she can settle on is a bitten out, “Fine”. Nothing about tonight is _fine_ ; it’s a meaningless thing to say, but she’s sick of earnest words and cutting truths. The last thing she sees before hanging up is the flash of regret drowning in Cloud’s furious gaze.

The house is silent but for the wind howling outside. Faintly, Tifa thinks of how her Dad and Claudia were downstairs but can’t bring herself to give a damn. Her phone holds all of her attention as she turns it off; she doesn’t want to risk any kind of contact with the people in Midgar. Not right now. Not anymore.

Restlessness is what gets her to get off the bed and across the room to her standing mirror. She pushes the sweatshirt’s sleeve up to her elbow, exposing her soulmate mark—nothing looks different, and Tifa isn’t sure why she thought it would. Maybe it’s because _she_ feels different in a way she can’t decipher yet; for now, all she can make out are swirls of anger and spasms of guilt.

As she stares at her soulmate mark, Tifa realizes what is burning can't be anything else than her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen to our sad dorks now? Find out in the next episode of 'How SK Has No Chill'!
> 
> You can find me on the [twitter](https://twitter.com/sk_evans)!


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